


A Bright Spark

by coldplayisawesome



Series: A Bright Spark Series [1]
Category: Coldplay - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2010-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:22:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldplayisawesome/pseuds/coldplayisawesome





	1. Chapter 1

The room was quiet and dark, the blinds pulled down and the curtains shut tight to block the rising sun. It took a few seconds for Jonathan's eyes to adjust to the lack of light, and he moved them along the crevices of the ceiling tiles until his brain registered the time. Groaning, he maliciously threw the covers off him and into the wall which had lent it's space to the edge of the bed. He swung his feet down to the floor, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and reaching for the lamp at his bedside. He couldn't find it, mostly because it had been moved the previous night when he rearranged his room, and he had foolishly forgotten to move it back. His feet pushed down into the carpet as he blindly stumbled around the room. His searching fingers found the light switch, lifted it up, then shielded his eyes from the burst of florescence that emerged.

His outfit for the day was already neatly laying on top of his dresser. A pair of charcoal trousers were at the bottom, smothered by the mound of attire above. The pressed collar of his white dress shirt was showing underneath a blue blazer sporting the letters ECS, which had been neatly embroidered in red thread. Jonathan laughed at the ridiculousness of the stack of clothes as he picked them up and began to dress. He would have carelessly thrown his clothes on his bed while he dressed if it hadn't been for the fear that his mother or father would check in on him. If they saw him disgrace his uniform in any way, he would surely be in a heap of trouble. So, he slowly lifted the blazer and shirt up in order to grab his trousers. As he looked at the fabric, he sighed.

Another day at the dull pile of stone otherwise known as the Ewell Castle School, an independent boys' school in Surrey. It was supposed to be a wonderful school- and it was- but being a boy, Jonathan did not particularly like it. Being a teenage boy, he did not care much for the lack of girls around, though secretly he had solved that problem. Still, a school is a boring place for any child to be, especially if the child must act proper at all times.

As he buttoned the white shirt and fastened a red- and blue-striped tie around his neck, a knock softly soared through the wood of his door. He made no effort to answer it, simply taking his time with the tie. He thought that would be best, anyway, to make sure his tie was on properly rather than rush to talk to who was presumably his mother. When he did answer the door, it came as no surprise to him that it was indeed his mother, bright and with a steaming cup of tea in her hand.

"Morning Jonathan," she said, allowing herself to enter the room. She winced at the state of his messy bed, and reluctantly sat down. The cup of tea she placed on the bedside table, before smoothing out the wrinkles in her knee-length, black skirt. "My, you look rather spiffy today. Nice job on the tie."

"Thank you, mum," Jonathan quietly replied as he fit his arms through the sleeves of the blazer. He lifted the collar a few times, making sure that he looked absolutely perfect and presentable for the day. "Did you want to ask me something, or...?"

"No, nothing in particular. Your father is just a bit on edge today, so I figured I'd give him some space, and come see how you were doing." There was an awkward silence as Jonathan's mother stared at the ground. It could be inferred that the relationship between his parents was strained at the very least. The wrinkles in his mother's face were brought on by stress and worry, the result of his father's strict expectations of both the quality of the household, and the quality of her obedience. She brightened up to continue, "How are you doing, by the way?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Good." Jonathan's mother continued to press out her skirt to perfection, even though there were no longer any visible creases. "Are you almost ready to leave? I'm sure we still have plenty of time, but if you want to arrive early, maybe see some friends of yours."

Jonny lightly laughed and politely smiled at his mother. "You know I don't have any friends."

"Oh, you, stop it. You do have friends, I know it."

"All right, but very few. Certainly none worth arriving early for."

"Well, what about that one boy? Um, you were talking to him one day... you know, tall boy, curly hair."

For a second, Jonathan's eyes widened, and his heart beat just a dot faster. He hadn't meant for anyone, particularly not his mother, to know that he acquainted with this boy. There was no hiding it now, though, so he chose to smudge the truth a bit. "Oh, I'm not friends with him. He was, I think- if I recall correctly- asking me if I had a spare pencil." It was an awful lie, but his mother seemed to buy it.

"Oh," she said, and Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. Now desperate to leave the interrogation of his mother, Jonathan rushed a hand to her back to usher her out of the room.

"Now that I think about it, I do have a friend. Chester. We're rather chummy, perhaps I could have a chat with him before class starts."

"Chester." She drank the name in, ignoring Jonathan's pressing hand. When finally she recognized it, she obeyed her son and stood up. "I thought you and Chester didn't get on?"

"Oh, no, we're the best of friends now."

"Well, if you insist, then I suppose we can head out in a few minutes. Finish readying yourself, I'll just be waiting in the car." Jonathan nodded at his mother as she left the room, tightly shutting the door behind her. He scrambled to collect his things, eagerly trying to think of any other person who may have witnessed the same interaction his mother had. No one was supposed to know he was friends with that boy, because he wasn't, really. They were not, and had never been friends.

Two minutes later, Jonathan was shutting the passenger side door of his mother's tiny car. The space between his legs and the glove compartment was just enough to fit his backpack without having to squeeze it in. He avoided to the best of his ability any conversation with his mother, which turned out to be rather easy, as she avoided to the best of her ability any conversation with her son. Jonathan thanked his mother for the ride as they pulled up to the enormous, brown building. He waited until the car pulled away to start walking to the entrance. On his way, a small group of boys gathered by the door caught his eye.

They were what the other students called the 'popular' boys, the boys whose parents were richest, or had the most prestigious jobs. Most of them were overly pretentious and fancy. In fact, all of them were overly pretentious and fancy, though some definitely more than others. At the center of the circle was their leader, the tall boy with curly hair that Jonathan's mother had taken notice of. His father was the mayor of some small town that no one really cared about, but everyone seemed to think the boy was the greatest. Even Jonathan thought so, though he would never openly admit it. As someone who was classified as a loser, it was Jonathan's responsibility to detest the entire lot of them, and it was their responsibility to detest Jonathan.

Jonathan kept his eye on the boy in the center, who looked up as the rest were laughing at something he'd said. He saw Jonathan and quickly winked at him, before returning his attention to his followers. Jonathan smiled to himself and continued on into the school.

By a strange coincidence, the boy called Chester happened to be standing right by the entrance as Jonathan entered the building. He sneered at Jonathan as they caught sight of each other. They weren't really friends, either.

"You might want to be careful about making faces like that," Jonathan said in passing, "it might stick, and you'd be even uglier than usual."

"At least I wouldn't look half as bad as you," Chester retorted. Their insults to each other were always horrible and predictable, but it was a tradition that neither was willing to give up. And there was really no reason for them to loathe each other so much, they just did.

The school day dragged on as always, and Jonathan found himself growing more and more tired as the day went on. Not physically tired, but mentally tired. Tired of seeing the same old people, the same old rooms over and over. He only had a few more years to endure, but he wasn't sure if he could make it. Of course, all of his classmates felt the same, so there was no use in complaining.

That day a rumor was making its way around, embellishing itself with new information each time it was told. When it finally reached Jonathan's ears, it went something like this:

The unknown town's mayor's son, who was called Chris, had been to a party the other night down at some random and unimportant person's house. It was a real party, too; there was loud music, a variety of crazy alcoholic drinks, and girls. How Chris had managed to pull off an invitation was unknown, and eventually the story was that he just crashed the party. In any case, he had found himself a pretty little girl to flirt with, and she flirted back. One thing led to another, and-

"He totally shagged her. Can you believe that?" Devon told Jonathan in a hushed voice. Devon was probably the only boy Jonathan would consider his friend, a pale, dark-haired boy about three inches shorter than Jonathan. They'd lived down the road from each other their entire lives, and their families were well acquainted.

Jonathan snorted at the ridiculousness of Devon's story. "No. I mean, do you really believe anything you hear around here?"

"I don't know man," Devon said. It was obvious that he was totally convinced, though he was usually gullible enough to take everything told to him as fact. "I've heard it's not the first girl he's banged, either."

"Yeah, and I've heard that you sleep in a bed filled with stuffed animals and in your spare time you listen to the Spice Girls. Should I believe that, too?"

Devon's face went red as he mumbled, "I don't listen to the Spice Girls anymore."

"Is the stuffed animals thing true?"

"It's only, like, one teddy bear. My bed's not filled with them. Plus, it was a gift from my late grandmother, and she meant a lot to me."

"OK, man," Jonathan replied. They were walking out of the school now, as it was finally the end of the day. They were about halfway to the road when Jonathan heard a whistle from behind him. He didn't look, but he knew what the whistle meant. He quickly dismissed himself, creating some lame excuse like he left something behind. In reality, he was being called to the small alley created by the side of the building and the gate around the premises. He stealthily walked into the alley, making sure that no one saw him.

"I think we need to find a new place to meet, some people are starting to catch on," Chris said. He was leaning against the side of the building, his blazer hanging over his one shoulder and his hands shoved into his trouser pockets.

"Well, the school was never really a good place for us to meet, was it?" Jonathan stopped in front of Chris. Chris narrowed his eyes at Jonathan and gave him a cheeky smile.

"I suppose not, but that's all part of the fun."

"Speaking of fun, did you hear the rumors going 'round today?" Jonathan laughed hopefully, but Chris's lack of response made him think otherwise. "They're not rumors, are they?"

"Jon," Chris said, his voice very serious. "Of course they're rumors."

"Right, of course." Jonathan shook his head. "I just... I mean, I know there've been girls-"

"I've dated girls, yeah, but, Jon, do you have any idea what that sort of thing would do to my reputation? I can't just go out and pick up any floozy I want and have my way with her. I mean, I could," Chris laughed arrogantly, "but the thing is, I would end up being pegged as some heartless womanizer. Which, yeah, is not a bad thing in the eyes of the boys here, but people outside of this school... It would ruin me, Jon."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I thought even for a second that it could be true. I know you wouldn't do that sort of thing."

"Exactly," Chris smiled, pushing himself off the wall. He stepped inches away from Jonathan and leaned forward to get a good look at him. "And what I've got is already good enough for me." Jonathan blushed and hid his eyes, and Chris straightened his shoulders and smiled. "You know me, Jon. Everyone loves me. If I wanted some hot little thing from one of those girls' schools, I could have her in seconds. I don't want any of that."

"Why not?"

"You're simply much too charming. No girl could compare."

Jonathan twisted his mouth, not entirely convinced by Chris's words. "I'm sure you won't always feel that way."

"I'm afraid I disagree. Anyway, even if it is true, that day is far in the future. We should cherish the present, because right now that's all that matters."

"You're absolutely right," Jonny said. "It was foolish of me to think you'd be so reckless."

"Yes, it was, but all is forgiven." Chris placed one of his large hands on Jonathan's shoulder. "In all honesty, I wouldn't have expected any less from you. You're quite a jealous boy, you know that?"

"But I can't help it, Chris. It's hard not to be jealous when all these people get to be around you all the time. I'm not even allowed to be your friend."

"One day that will all change, Jon, don't you worry. Besides, you wouldn't want me as a friend. I'm dreadfully uninteresting." Chris laughed as if what he said was untrue, and that he really wasn't dreadfully uninteresting. He laughed as if he was the most interesting person in the world, and it entertained him to convince people otherwise.

"You're not uninteresting to me, but maybe that would change if we were friends." Jonathan briefly laid his hand on top of Chris's, and they both brought their hands down at the same time. "I must be going now, I think. We'll have to come up with another meeting place for tomorrow."

"If only we could meet at my house," Chris sighed. "It would make things much simpler."

"Indeed, it would. For now, how about the alley by the diner? I think it would still be safe to meet in an alley, yes?"

"By the diner sounds wonderful, Jon. I shall see you tomorrow, then." Chris pressed two fingers to his lips, then moved them to Jonathan's cheek. "Don't miss me too much."

Jonathan smiled, then ran to find his mother. Her car was sitting on the side of the road, patiently waiting for him.

"What took you so long?" she asked as he sat in the car. He quickly threw the same lame excuse at her, that he'd left something behind. She accepted it as Devon had, and the rest of the car ride home was completely silent.

He ran up to his room and changed into what he considered to be normal clothes, then relaxed on his still unmade bed. He thought about taking a nap, but if his father came home and he was sleeping, he'd be in for it. Instead, he thought about Chris. He often thought about Chris, probably more so than Chris thought about him. He didn't mind, though, because he liked thinking about Chris.

They had been secretly meeting for months, ever since Jonathan had opened his locker to find a small note fall to his feet. The note was something Chris had scribbled in between classes and somehow managed to shove into Jonathan's locker. It asked him to meet Chris after school in the small alley. He was rather surprised to find that Chris's agenda was one of a romantic nature.

It was almost like a fairytale. The popular one that everyone loves falls for the nerdy one that everyone hates, or at least doesn't know exists. Then there's the forbidden element, which was doubly so in their case. Jonathan found himself unable to say no to Chris, as he was hypnotized by Chris's dazzling personality. He was funny and charming. Everyone loved him, and it was easy for Jonathan to see why. To know that someone so wonderful could like someone like Jonathan was magical, and even surreal. It really was a fairytale.

After countless minutes swimming in thoughts of Chris, Jonathan was pulled to the surface by the sound of his father's voice booming through the house. His monstrous tone told that he was angry, probably with something Jonathan's mother had done. Jonathan closed his eyes and tried to escape back to the alley by the school, but it wasn't long before he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

"Come in!" he shouted, refusing to open his eyes or move at all. The door opened, and a person walked into the room and over by his bed.

"Have you seen your father's dark green tie?" Jonathan's mother asked him. Jonathan shook his head, heard his mother sigh in response, and finally opened his eyes. She looked worn-out and sad. "Great."

"Sorry." His mother shook her head, silently telling him not to apologize, and left without saying another word. Afraid of any drama between his parents he might have to endure if he stayed at home, Jonathan put on his trainers and walked to Devon's house. He knocked on the big, blue door and waited for an answer.

"Hello, Jonny!" Devon's younger sister Kirsten chimed as she pulled back the door. She looked very much like Devon, though a female version. Her hair was the same color, but it was past shoulder-length, and she had a bit more color in her face. Like Devon, she and Jonathan had known each other for a very long time. She always called him Jonny, though he wasn't sure why. Everyone else only ever called him Jon or Jonathan, but for some reason, Kirsten insisted on calling him Jonny. "Are you looking for Devon?"

"Yes, Kirsten. Is he around?"

"Yeah, I'll go get him." She didn't actually get him, but she closed the door a bit and shouted behind her, "DEVON! JONNY'S AT THE DOOR!" She opened the door again and smiled at Jonathan. "He should be here real soon, he's probably up in his room doing manly things."

Jonathan wasn't sure what she meant, nor did he want to know what she meant, so he politely nodded and waited on the porch. Devon took his sister's place within minutes, and apologized for taking so long.

"It's OK," Jonathan replied. "I just needed to get out of the house, and, you know, away from my parents. So, I was just wondering if you wanted to come outside or something."

"Yeah, sure," Devon said, walking out onto the porch and closing the door behind him. "Uh, I can't find my shoes, though, so I hope you weren't planning on going far."

Jonathan looked down to see that Devon was standing rather bare-foot, and he couldn't help laughing. "How did you lose your shoes? Weren't you wearing any to school?"

"Well, yes, but I can't wear those outside of school. They're part of the uniform, you know."

"Right. Well... still, how did you lose your shoes?" Jonathan continued to laugh. Devon leaned over to him, which made him look even shorter than he already was.

"I think Kirsten took them. She's evil."

"I'd believe it." Devon stood back and looked at Jonathan, a smug grin forming on his pale face.

"You know, she's got a thing for you. She asks about you all the time."

"She does?"

"Oh, yes. She's always asking weird things, like," Devon changed his pitch to a squeaky, girlish one, "Devon, how was Jonny today? Devon, what was Jonny wearing today? Devon, do you think Jonny would ever want to marry me?"

"She does not say that!"

Devon folded his arms and laughed at Jonathan's disbelief. "Yes, she does. If you don't believe me, ask her yourself. Of course, she'll never tell you the truth, she'd die of embarrassment!"

"I don't think I would marry her," Jonathan mused, shaking his head. "Not that she's not nice or anything, I just don't think she would be someone I'd be interested in marrying."

"I don't blame you there. She's evil. So, the usual drama at the homestead?"

"Pretty much. I guess my dad couldn't find his tie...? I'm not really sure, not that it matters much to me." Devon looked down and skimmed his toe on the smooth surface of the porch.

"I'm so glad my parents aren't like that, I don't think I could deal with it."

"Yeah, well, I can't really deal with it, either, but I have to. There's really no other choice."

Devon started to laugh again. "You could marry my sister and move in with us, then you wouldn't have to deal with it."

"It's tempting," Jonathan said, joining in on the laughter. "Kirsten might not appreciate me marrying her just to get away from my family, though."

"No, she loves you too much to care." Devon let his arms fall to his side and he walked to the edge of the stairs. "I feel like going for a walk... My parents won't care if I go without wearing shoes, will they?"

"They probably will." Jonathan walked over to where Devon was and looked out at the road. "If you really can't find any shoes, though, I think I have a spare somewhere in my room."

"Thanks, man, but I wouldn't want to make you go back home. I'll just go threaten Kirsten until she gives me my shoes back." Devon smiled and ran inside his house. Jonathan patiently waited, eventually sitting down on the top step and leaning against the railing. As he watched the neighborhood, very little happened. A few cars passed by, a kid or two ran by, but nothing extraordinary. Devon returned soon enough, his feet now hidden inside of two dirty white trainers.

"It worked, I assume," Jonathan said to Devon, nodding to this feet. Even though he knew what Jonathan was talking about, Devon still looked down.

"Oh, no, actually, they were in my room." He looked up at Jonathan and gave a nervous laugh. "I guess Kirsten really didn't take them after all."

"Then maybe she's not as evil as you say," Jonathan said, and Devon laughed.

"Are you gonna marry her, then, since she didn't take my shoes?"

"Yes. See, I didn't want to say it earlier, but that was really the deciding factor. If she had stolen your shoes, well, I would have wanted nothing to do with her. But, because she didn't steal your shoes, I will gladly take her as my wife."

"Good. I'm sure she, along with my parents, will be astonishingly pleased to hear this," Devon smiled, and he nodded to the road. "Let's get going, yeah?"

"Is there anywhere in particular you were planning on walking to?" Jonathan asked as they walked down the old and cracked sidewalk.

"Not really. Do you have anywhere in mind?"

"Definitely not." Jonathan silently watched the pavement roll beneath them as their feet trudged the sidewalk. He wondered what the chances were of them running into Chris along the way, even though he knew that he wouldn't really be able to acknowledge Chris in public. Still, it would have been nice to see him.

They walked down the street a short way before turning back. Devon suggested they keep going, but Jonathan pointed out that it was getting later, and he would be expected home for dinner very soon. Devon said that was fair enough, and the two returned to their respective homes.

Jonathan reluctantly entered his house, quietly closing the door behind him. Everything was quiet, so he assumed that either one of two things could have happened: his parents had made up and were happy and good now; or his father had finally flipped completely and killed his mother. He hoped and prayed that the first was true, because if he had come home to a murder scene he would not have been very pleased. Plus, no matter how often he despised his mother, his father was always twenty times worse. There was also the possibility that his death would be next. He was right, though, and he walked into the kitchen to find his mother humming merrily as she cooked the last of the dinner, and his father quietly reading the newspaper at the table.

"Oh, Jonathan, you're back!" his mother exclaimed when she saw him. She immediately turned to the pot on the stove and added a few different spices to the mixture. Jonathan's father briefly looked up from the top of the newspaper, but wordlessly continued reading. Jonathan took a seat at the table and stared unsuspectingly at the empty plate in front of him. He didn't dare to ask what his mother had prepared, and it didn't matter anyway. Whatever she made, he would have to eat.

A few minutes later, Jonathan's mother walked over to the table with the steaming pot, oven mitts protecting her hands from the heat. She placed that pot in the center of the table and grabbed a ladle from the counter. She then went back and grabbed three bowls from the cupboard, placing them neatly on each of the plates that had been set earlier. She spooned the stew into the bowls, then let the ladle rest against the edge of the pot. She sat down and cleared her throat to get Jonathan's father's attention. It didn't work the first time, so she tried again. Jonathan's father slowly folded his newspaper and placed it to the side of his dish. He folded his hands and bowed his head, and Jonathan and his mother did the same. Jonathan's father began to say a prayer, as he always did, and once he was finished, he began to eat. Jonathan and his mother both waited for him to take a bite and comment on the food before either of them began to eat. He let the stew sit in his mouth for a moment, swirling it over his taste buds before he swallowed.

"Delicious," he said, and Jonathan's mother quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The three ate their meal, casually chatting about trivial things as they did so.

"Did you behave in school today, Jonathan?" It was always the same question, and it always received the same answer.

"Absolutely, sir." There really wasn't much else to say. Jonathan dug his spoon into the bowl and pulled out some of the stew. He couldn't quite tell what all was in it, but it didn't taste half bad. Jonathan's mother and father civilly talked to each other for a while, and Jonathan only heard a small portion of what they were saying. He suddenly remembered something he needed to ask his mother, but he waited until his parents were finished talking to get her attention.

"Yes, Jonathan?" she sweetly asked. Jonathan paused for a moment and stirred his spoon around in the bowl, trying to think of the best phrasing for what he wanted to ask.

"Would it be all right if I walk around town after school tomorrow?" He looked up at her and saw that she was narrowing her eyes slightly, searching for something in her son's expression that she wasn't going to find.

"I suppose. With Devon?" Her eyes returned to their normal size, and she returned to eating her dinner.

"With Devon, maybe, or by myself. Would that be all right?"

"Sure. Just call whenever you need to be picked up."

"You're not going around with a girl, are you?" Jonathan's father interrupted, though in a light and jovial voice. Jonathan nervously laughed, almost unsure of how to respond.

"No. Would you like me to?"

"Well, you know, you are getting to be that age, Jonathan. You do need to start thinking about the future."

"Oh, Randall, he's still only a boy," Jonathan's mother said, reached her hand towards her husband. "Did you think about your future at fifteen?"

Jonathan's father pompously laughed and held his head up. "I knew exactly what my future would be when I was ten."

"Oh, of course you did," Jonathan's mother sarcastically laughed. "Did it actually work out that way?"

Jonathan's father bowed his head a little. "No." After a quick silence, the room was bursting with the sound of laughter. Jonathan was hugely relieved to see that his parents were on good terms now. The tension that had existed earlier that day and even in the afternoon was nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but he still loathed it.

After dinner, the three went their separate ways. Jonathan's mother cleared the table and began to tidy up the kitchen, while Jonathan's father went into the living room to relax and watch TV and Jonathan went up to his room. It was routine, basically, for them to all do such things in the evening.

Thirteen hours had passed since he woke up, and yet Jonathan's bed was still unmade. He would be underneath the covers again in a matter of hours, but he decided to take the time to neaten it anyway. If his father should for some reason get up from his cozy chair in the living room to see Jonathan, he would not be pleased at all to see such an untidy bed. Jonathan took his time to make sure that the blankets and sheets looked perfect, and that his pillow was not too far from the top center. When he finished, he looked at the masterpiece, and decided that he would sit on the floor to keep the bed looking as nice as it did.

There were some birds chirping outside of his window, and they were being rather annoying. Even through the closed pane, Jonathan could hear them loud and clear. He walked over to the window and lifted it open just a crack, so that he could pop his head out to see where the birds were. A small nest rested in the crook of a nearby tree, where the trunk and branch met. There were three of the tiny creatures, and they were partying like crazy. Jonathan yelled at them to shut up, though he knew they would neither hear him or know what he was asking of them. He grumpily shut his window and glanced around his room.

The clothes he had worn that day to school were laying in the corner, and he quickly moved to pick them up. He neatly folded the blazer and placed it on his bed, while the shirt and trousers he simply threw into his hamper. The tie was already laying on top of his dresser, so he placed his blazer next to it, and removed a new shirt and pair of trousers from the drawers to rest on top of the blazer. It all looked so neat and proper, and Jonathan laughed in spite of himself.

With nothing else to do, Jonathan laid down on the floor and gazed up at the ceiling. He thought about what his father had told him about thinking of the future, and what Devon had said about Kirsten liking him. His mother was right, he was only fifteen, and not in any state to be making plans for his future. Especially not marriage. After all, it might be another fifteen years before he actually does marry, and so he doesn't see why he should be so pressured to think about it now.

Plus, if he thinks about his future, he has to think about the fact that he will not always be with Chris. It was a sad truth that he tried to avoid as much as he could. Still, he thought about it all the time. There would soon be a day when they would have to end their relationship, because it should not have existed. Both boys were expected to marry respectable women, and have respectable children with those women. And maybe one day they would both want that, but right now they did not, and the thought of ending what they had was upsetting.

Finally, it grew dark enough for Jonathan to shut off the light in his room and in his conscious. He closed his eyes against his pillow and tried to fight off the films of the next day playing in his head. The birds outside his window cried for him to stay in this world, but his body ignored them and he slowly journeyed into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It was, of course, absolutely essential for Jonathan to walk around for at least ten minutes before meeting with Chris. That way there would be no suspicion whatsoever as to why they were both walking into some desolate alleyway when they weren't even on speaking terms. This was nothing new to Jonathan, though, as months of sneaking around had taught him the art perfectly. It was the same way with Chris, too, though Chris was a bit more daring. He seemed to think it was fun to subtly flaunt their secret.

"Some lady was looking at me funny when she saw me walk back here," Chris breathed to Jonathan. Their bodies were pressed together, hidden behind an over-sized dumpster, Jonathan's back against the side of the building. Chris was as close as he could get without his nose touching Jonathan's cheek. "She probably thought I was buying drugs."

"She didn't recognize you?"

Chris softly laughed. "It surprised me, too. But, no, she didn't, which is very good." He kept his mouth open and slowly crept his hand to Jonathan's hip. The corners of his mouth twitched upward a few times before he brought his lips together and pressed them to Jonathan's.

"When do you have to be home?" Jonathan asked as Chris pulled back slightly.

"Four, I think. What about you?"

"My mum said to call when I need to be picked up, so, whenever." Chris smiled again and his hand slid under the hem of Jonathan's shirt.

"Perfect." He leaned back in, this time not hesitating to catch Jonathan's lips. His thumb ran in circles across the smooth skin of Jonathan's abdomen, sending shivers through the other boy's body. Jonathan tilted his head back, his breath trembling as Chris moved his lips to the exposed skin of Jonathan's neck. His hand moved further and further down Jonathan's stomach until he reached the button of the charcoal trousers. Then he stopped. "Jon," he breathlessly said, "I think I love you."

"You- You love me?" Jonathan asked with wide eyes. He was surprised, certainly, but not appalled; if anything, his tone was hopeful and content.

"Well, I mean, I'm not an expert on the subject, but I wouldn't rule it out. And why wouldn't I be? You're charming, and intelligent, and oh so handsome." He took his hand out from under Jonathan's shirt and gently brushed it through his hair. "We're both very lucky to have each other."

"I could love you, too," Jonathan smiled brightly. "If it is love, and... not just temptation."

Chris thought about Jonathan's words, rolled them over in his head until they made nearly no sense. When his mind had enough of them, he looked directly at Jonathan and smiled at him with his eyes. "I do love you."

Jonathan opened his mouth, but replaced his response with a kiss. Chris's hand found its way to the back of Jonathan's neck as he happily slipped his tongue into the other boy's mouth.

At four o'clock, Chris left, nearly sprinting out of sight as he realized that he was going to be late. Jonathan sat down and leaned against the dumpster, patiently waiting until it was safe for him to leave. He only waited five minutes instead of the usual ten, figuring that it would be a sufficient space of time. Luckily, he was right, but he knew he ought to have waited longer, especially when his mother asked him what he had done and he realized he hadn't thought up a story yet.

"Well, I just walked around, got some exercise," he shrugged as the car breezed through their neighborhood. "Nothing exciting, really."

"Devon didn't go with you?" his mother asked. "Or did he just leave early?"

"Uh, no, he didn't go with me. I forgot to ask him, actually."

"Oh, a nice friend you are," she sarcastically said. She momentarily took her eyes off the road to narrow them at her son. "You really walked around by yourself for nearly two hours?"

"Yes," Jonathan snobbishly replied. He always felt that his mother was far too nosy, and this was no exception.

"Jonathan, why don't you try to make friends with the other boys? I've only ever seen you talk to Devon, and even then you hardly mention him."

"I don't know, I guess I just don't find them very interesting. A lot of those boys are so arrogant and annoying. It's like all they care about is themselves."

"Well, could you at least try to like them?" she asked. "It's sad to see you spend all your time alone in your room. You're a young boy, you're supposed to be out having fun and playing with other young boys." Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Enjoy your youth while it lasts, Jonathan, because one day you'll wake up and it will be far too late."

Jonathan held up his hands in annoyance and whined, "Mum, you tell me this everyday. I am enjoying my youth, this is just the way I like to spend it is all." His mother, though obviously reluctant, gave up the argument and allowed for silence to fill the car. Before they left the car, however, she spoke up one last time.

"Jonathan, I just wish that you'd be... a bit more social, you know? After all, your behavior reflects on your father and I, and so, if you don't interact with other people very often, well, it doesn't look good." She motherly placed her hand on Jonathan's leg, and pleaded at him with her eyes. Jonathan hated to disappoint his mother, no matter how often he disliked her, so he quietly nodded to make her happy.

Jonathan's father was not one bit surprised when he heard of Jonathan's solitary afternoon. As the small family sat down to another night's meal, Randall poignantly criticized Jonathan for having what he basically called a "stale personality that no one would like." Jonathan looked at his father, wrought with confusion, and even his mother was taken aback.

"I mean, you don't ever talk about anything. Do you even have any interests?" Jonathan was about to respond, but Randall cut him off by continuing, "You're always up in your room; I don't think I've seen you leave this house once in the past few weeks, save to go to school."

"I went out yesterday," Jonathan defended, though he quickly realized it was not the thing to do. Randall's eyes flashed with anger; clearly he had not finished with his thoughts.

"Excuse me?" was all he said, but it was so impassioned that Jonathan couldn't help cowering a little.

"I-I went out yesterday," Jonathan repeated, much less confident than before. "I went to Devon's house and we walked around for a bit."

"Devon." Randall chewed the name, utterly disgusted with its flavor. "You're always hanging out with Devon. What is it with that kid? You got a thing for him or something?"

"What?"

"Randall!" Jonathan's mother incredulously exclaimed. "Randall, please, calm down."

"Shut up, Penny, this doesn't concern you," Randall spat, and Penny backed down. She glanced at Jonathan, who looked as if he were about to cry. What frightened him most was the casualness that Randall had when he threw around the idea that Jonathan could ever have feelings for another boy. It was almost as if Randall knew the truth, knew Jonathan's dirty secret, and this was his way of letting his son know. It was horrible, pernicious, and despicably abusive, and it was exactly how Randall would do it. So, naturally, Jonathan suspected the worst.

"I don't," Jonathan quietly said, because he could feel Randall's expecting eyes boring holes through his head. "I don't have a thing for him."

"Well, you spend an awful lot of time around him," Randall replied. He was visibly trying to calm himself, but to no avail. Definitively, he said, "Tomorrow, you're getting new friends."

Jonathan thought it was one of the most ridiculous things his father could have commanded him to do, but he didn't dare argue. He nodded, finished eating, then went up to the quiet sanctuary that was his bedroom. He was in there not fifteen minutes when his mother knocked on the door.

"Jonathan," she said to him as they both sat on the bed, "don't let what your father said bother you, OK? You know he didn't mean anything he said."

"So I don't have a stale personality?" Jonathan bitterly asked. Penny lovingly pat down a few locks of Jonathan's hair and sighed.

"Of course not, sweetie," she kindly said. "And what he said about Devon, I know it's not true. You wouldn't do something like that."

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows, half in confusion and half in guilt. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you're just a little shy is all. You'll find a girl one day, we know. Your father's just a little anxious about it."

"So, you mean to say that he thinks I'm gay or something?" Jonathan looked down to the floor, a strange feeling sweeping over him. He felt like this was some made-for-TV moment where he and his mother would have a heartfelt talk, and he would finally have the courage to come out to her. It wasn't though; it was far from made-for-TV, and he wasn't actually gay, anyway. Still, the feeling overwhelmed him, and he was about to say something to his mother that he really shouldn't have, when the ringing of the phone drifted from the other room.

Jonathan froze with terror as he watched his mother leave to answer the phone, the realization of what he almost did hitting him like a hard slap to the face, painful and burning, and turning him beet red. He looked down at his hands, and wondered how he could be the same person, or if he even was the same person. Why would he do a stupid thing like tell his mother about Chris? That would obviously be stupid.

In any case, he was thankfully saved by whoever had decided to call the house, and he was keen on making certain that he would not slip up like that again. When he realized that either the phone call was going to take a while, or his mother was simply not coming back to his room, he decided to sneak downstairs and outside. It was pretty easy, as he found his father asleep in front of the TV.

The evening sky was streaked with pink from the setting sun, a light, fluffy color that reminded Jonathan of how beautiful the world really could be. After all, he was in love. He was supposed to be happy, not fearful. Or, if he was fearful, it was supposed to be because he was so in love that he was afraid to lose it, not because he was in love with the wrong person. But, he was in love with the wrong person- not to him of course, but to the rest of the world- and no amount of prettiness in the sky could help that.

Jonathan kept his head down for most of the time that he was out, which was a rather long time. He hadn't realized it until he noticed that he was only seconds away from walking into the school, a distance that was five minutes from his house in a car alone. He looked up to see that the pink was now a threateningly dark shade of purple, and that stars were dotted everywhere on the canvas of sky. Yet, as anxious as he was now to get home, he was equally unwilling to turn around and walk back. There was something about being out when his parents hadn't known he had left that was freeing. Exhilarating.

Jonathan crossed the street and walked down the nearly empty sidewalk. He passed the diner, and smiled to himself as he looked down the alleyway. Things had gone swimmingly well that afternoon, much better than he could have hoped for. Once again he spaced out, this time with thoughts of Chris and his exploring hands, and when he came to he noticed a man walking towards him. Everything was dark now, so Jonathan could just barely see the outline of the man, let alone his face.

He drew closer, and bit by bit Jonathan saw more of the man. As they passed each other, Jonathan looked closely at the man, who gave him a cheeky smile before casually whistling. Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks and did a double-take; was that really Chris? Just as Jonathan turned to get an even better look, a hand firmly grabbed his arm and pulled him deeper into the darkness.

"Jon, what are you doing out here at this time of night?" Chris asked as they stopped in back of a nearby building. Through the darkness, Jonathan could see the whites of Chris's wide eyes. "You didn't purposely come looking for me, did you?"

"No, of course not, I was just trying to get away from my parents. I didn't even realize I was so close to your house..."

"Yes, I only live a few minutes from here. Anyway, why were you trying to get away from your parents?" Chris asked with a sincerity that almost knocked Jonathan backwards.

"Um, they're just... being difficult," Jonathan replied, trying to bury the memory of his almost-mistake. "What were you doing out here?"

"I always take a walk at night, it helps me keep my fit figure," Chris said, puffing out his chest, even though he wasn't visible in the dark. "Ah, but I'm particularly glad for it tonight, since perhaps it was meant that we would run into each other."

"It was?"

"Oh, yes. And I have something to tell you, because you are such a jealous boy." Chris paused momentarily to build the suspense. "My parents have requested I take this young lady, the daughter of a family friend, to dinner tomorrow night. Now, Jonathan, I can't make any promises as to what my actions may or may not be. It's all an act, you know that, but it is very well said that a good actor must play the part with utter persuasion."

"Of course, I understand completely," Jonathan said. He knew he had to accept this information, no matter how envious he was, simply because he had no choice. If he had been bold, he would have done something courageous after, like kiss Chris on the cheek, or if he was more daring, on the lips. Chris held all the confidence between them, though, so it was he who made his move on Jonathan, embracing him in such a tight hug that was actually far more courageous than anything else he could have done. It was mostly to let the other boy know that despite whatever was to happen the following evening, Chris's important heart belonged only to Jonathan.

"Goodnight, Jon," Chris beamed as they parted ways.

"Goodnight, Chris," Jonathan sang in reply. In the seconds before they both began to walk away, he was faced with the difficulty of getting the words to come out of his mouth. He really wanted to tell Chris he loved him, but he stammered for so long that it was soon too late. He instantly felt bad about it, as it seemed like Chris had nearly poured his heart out before, so he mentally slapped himself and decided that next time he would be brave enough.

The outline of the tall, curly-haired boy slowly disappeared as he walked further away, and Jonathan knew that it was time for him to return home. He only hoped that it was late enough for his parents to have gone to bed without waiting for him to return, or maybe even without noticing he'd left at all.

Not only had it gotten so amazingly dark since he left, it was now also ten degrees cooler. Jonathan had luckily worn his jacket, though the thin fabric did not provide much warmth. He walked the entire way home thinking about how nice it had been to hug Chris, and how warm he felt. He could feel Chris's hot breath on his neck then, too, though now the memory of it made him shiver with excitement.

He remembered a time when these thoughts and feelings were new and strange, and now they were nothing out of the ordinary to him. Still, though, he welcomed them with open arms, because he never felt better than when he was with Chris, physically and mentally.

The door of his house was surprisingly unlocked, even though his parents seemed to have gone to sleep. But he realized as he snuck up to his room that they had probably noticed his absence, and left the door unlocked because they knew he would come back. That almost made Jonathan angry, almost made him want to go back out into the night and stay there forever, or at least until the next day when the sun rose and he would have to go to school. He couldn't do that, though, because he was ill-prepared and cowardly. There was no way he would make it on his own.

Jonathan wasn't tired when he lay his head down on his pillow, so he imagined running away once more. If Chris could come with him... but Chris wouldn't do that. He was far too promising to his parents and to the world to give it up for some shy, loser boy who was just trying to run away from his dumb, insignificant problems. That's when Jonathan realized how ridiculous he was being. He'd been lucky enough to have two parents that loved him most of the time, had provided him with food and shelter for the past fifteen years, and had sent him to one of the top private schools around. And, to top it all off, he was loved by the most amazing boy in all of England. Really, what was there to run away from?

Finding no answer, Jonathan allowed himself to fall asleep. In his dreams, he was even more relaxed than he had felt while awake, which was a pretty terrific feat. He couldn't remember any of his dreams when he woke up, though, but he did wake up grinning widely at the luck he'd had in his life. The only thing that could have brought his spirits down was hearing his mother quietly weeping at his door.

Penny was standing in the doorway, watching as her only son slowly rose out of bed. A few drops splashed down her cheek, falling and wetting the collar of her floral nightgown. Jonathan noticed her, and a look of despair painted over his smile. Neither of the two said a thing, but the painful silence billowed and stretched out to every corner of the room, and spoke volumes more than any words could. Eventually Penny left, allowing for her son to get dressed.

The silence followed them, sitting obnoxiously in between the seats in the car. It kicked and stabbed at Jonathan until finally he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," he kept saying. "Sorry. So sorry."

His mother looked at him, eyes drenched in sadness, and weakly asked, "Why?"

"I just... I couldn't take it, being there," Jonathan answered. "I just wanted to get out and walk around for a bit, I didn't mean to be gone for so long."

Penny returned her attention to the road. "Where did you even go?"

"I walked into town," he said, and noticing the look of shock on his mother's face, he added, "I didn't plan on it, though, I just kept walking and suddenly I was by the school."

"When did you come home?" Jonathan shrugged.

"I don't know what time it was. It was dark... and cold." Jonathan turned to his mother and pleaded, "But mum, I swear I was coming back, I wasn't leaving forever." Penny silently nodded and said nothing for a while.

"I didn't tell your father," she significantly told him as the car stopped in front of the school. "I thought it was best not to."

"Thank you," Jonathan said, and she silently nodded her head as he left the car. He felt miserable as he walked up to the building, until he passed by the group of boys that always congregated by the door. Chris was talking to one of the other boys, but as Jonathan passed he lifted his hand to his heart and quickly glanced over.

"Jon!" a voice called from behind. Jonathan turned around to see Devon running towards him. "Hey."

"Hi," Jonathan replied as they entered the building.

"Do you want to hang out after school?" Devon asked, bouncing around the hall. "Kirsten's not gonna be home, so she won't bother us."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Jonathan stopped and opened his locker, and Devon hung on the door. "Though my dad thinks we hang out too much."

"Oh... Do you still have that football game?"

"Yeah, why, are you just using me for it?" Jonathan laughed as he pulled a book from his backpack.

"Yep," Devon unflinchingly said. He took his hands off the locker door and began to walk away. "OK, so, after school, then. See ya."

"Yeah, bye." Jonathan quickly finished at his locker and headed to his first class. The day went by abnormally fast, and it only seemed like a few minutes before he was sitting in the cafeteria, slowly eating his lunch.

Jonathan sat at a table with Devon and a few other boys, like always. There was Tom, Steve, Matt, Crack, and Spencer. They were all the least respected boys in the school, except for Devon. Devon actually had the potential to be in the group of popular boys, but he was much more comfortable around this particular group. He was basically their leader, something he could never have been elsewhere.

Jonathan was the anti-social one, never saying more than a few words here and there, even when he was amongst friends. Tom was an American, so no one really liked him very much. Steve and Matt were twins, skinny blond boys whose father had recently been put in jail for selling illicit substances to underage kids. Crack was one of those kids, and no one could actually remember his real name. Even he had trouble remembering it sometimes. Then there was Spencer.

Spencer was the weirdest person alive. He collected a number of items, none of which were really normal for people to collect. One was icicles, which he safely stored in a small freezer he kept in his bedroom. Another was hair, and everyone was honestly frightened to ask how he accumulated such a large and varying supply. This week's main thing seemed to be forks. Every time someone at the table finished eating, Spencer would reach over and steal their utensils without saying a word. He was crazy.

Today, Devon and Matt had taken to pointing at random boys around the cafeteria and throwing their heaviest insults. They picked at everything, from clothes (though they all wore the same uniform) to speech to even eye color. Jonathan wasn't really paying much attention to them, until something they said caught his ear.

"...curly-haired bastard... and he's as tall as a freaking giraffe!" Matt shouted. Devon nervously chuckled and whispered something in his ear. "Ugh, man, that's freaking nasty!"

"I know," Devon said, frowning and slightly leaning back in his chair. "So, curly-haired giraffe bastard... How about clown-faced douchebag?"

"Ah, I like that one." Matt looked over at Chris and narrowed his eyes. "The pretty little mayor's son... wonder how his father would feel if he knew his kid was sleeping with every girl he sees?"

"Man, you're just jealous 'cause girls hate you," Devon laughed. "You can take my sister if you want, even though she's got it bad for Jonny." Jonathan looked at him with terror.

"Please don't remind me," he said. "Anyway, I hope you guys realize that half of what you say isn't even true."

"No, I know this is true," Matt insisted. "You don't wanna know how, but I swear I've... well, it's true." Jonathan gave him his best look of disbelief and returned to eating his sandwich. Devon and Matt continued to insult Chris until it was time for them to leave, and they even carried it into the hall for a bit. Of course, once they realized that they were walking right behind Chris, they stopped.

That afternoon, Jonathan was only at his house for about ten minutes to change into non-school clothes, before he left for Devon's house. He didn't exactly tell his parents where he was going, for fear that they might make a fuss about it, so he simply said, "I'm going out, I'll be back later."

"Oh, where are you going?" Penny asked, peering her head around the kitchen wall to see Jonathan standing by the door.

"Out... with friends."

"Oh... OK. Don't be gone too long," she said, and returned to her work in the other room as Jonathan quickly left before his father, who was for some reason home early, could chime in.

Devon was already waiting on the porch when Jonathan arrived, sitting impatiently and looking much like a little child. As Jonathan walked up the small path from the sidewalk to the house, Devon sprung up and leaped inside, not waiting for Jonathan to walk into the house, but kindly leaving the door open for him. Jonathan knew the routine, though, and he shut the door behind him and walked up the stairs to Devon's room without thinking twice.

As expected, Devon was already comfortably laying on his bed by the time Jonathan made it into the room. Jonathan took a seat in the old, beaten bean bag chair that occupied one solitary corner. He threw the case for the game he was holding at Devon, who managed to catch it without making a fool of himself. Devon looked at it, made a sour face, then tossed it aside.

"I don't really feel like playing anymore," he said in a somber tone.

"Is everything all right?" Jonathan politely asked, and Devon hopped down to the floor, leaning against his bed and sitting cross-legged.

"You don't have any sisters, so you wouldn't understand," Devon brooded.

"Kirsten, again... What did she do this time, steal your shoes for real?"

Devon shook his head, and messed with the hem of his pants. "She's got a date tonight."

"A date?" Jonathan said, almost laughing. "Isn't she, like, ten?"

"She's thirteen. And I agree, I think it's a little young."

"So, you've got the whole overprotective brother thing going on, then?"

"I guess so," Devon quietly replied. He continued to look down at his lap for two more seconds before looking up at Jonathan with bright eyes. "Hey, take my mind off of it."

"How?"

"I don't know, sing or something," Devon shrugged.

"Sing?!" Jonathan laughed. There was no way in hell he would ever sing, especially not at the request of Devon. Devon accepted this defeat instantaneously, though, and then glanced around the room. He picked up the case he had discarded a minute earlier and reached for his game console.

"Let's play football, then." Devon quickly inserted the disc into its proper location, and threw a controller at Jonathan.

They played the game for hours, never even pausing the screen until there was a knock at the door. It was Devon's mother, there to inform the boys that she was leaving to drive Kirsten to her date, and that dinner was on the stove. Devon absentmindedly "OK"ed her, then switched back to the game as quickly as he could.

Jonathan left soon after, listing his mother's imminent worry as the reason he needed to return home. As he was walking back, his wandering mind joined two facts together: Kirsten had a date that night, and so did Chris. It had never even crossed his mind until then that the two could have something to do with each other, and as the light from his house came creeping into view he prayed that they didn't.

His prayers were unanswered, sadly, as it turned out that Devon's family had some sort of connection with Chris's. The parents of the two families had gotten together and arranged for Chris to take Kirsten out to dinner, even though both were still very young. They agreed to it, of course, because they had no choice.

Overall, it wasn't a bad night. The food tasted quite all right, and there was hardly ever a dull moment in their conversation. Of course, most of what Kirsten said had to do with Jonathan, though Chris really didn't mind that at all. He did mind that he couldn't tell her he agreed with the things she said, that he too thought Jonathan said "crinkle-cut" in the most delightful way, but he was used to holding back his feelings.

When their dinner was finished, Chris sweetly offered to walk Kirsten home, an offer which she gladly accepted. Kirsten was far more upfront than he expected her to be, and as they began to walk down the dark street she slipped her hand into his. He smiled at her and wraps his fingers around hers, telling himself it was all an act.

While walking through the darkness, Kirsten suddenly pulled Chris off to the side of the road, much like he had done to Jonathan the night before.

"Chris," she said, walking backwards and leading him to wherever she planned, "I have to ask you something." She stopped once she felt they were far enough into the darkness, and Chris waited for her to continue. "I've heard you're very... knowledgeable about this sort of thing."

"Come on, spit it out," he impatiently urged. She looked at him and took a deep breath.

"I was... saving myself for Jonny, but... maybe you could help me practice?" Chris's eyes immediately flashed wide.

"Uh, Kirsten, I-"

"Please," she pleaded with big eyes. "Please, I need your help."

"I..." Chris looked hard at Kirsten. She was a pretty girl, and maybe she already knew a thing or two. And she was so pressing, with those desperate eyes and pouting lips. They were really pink, her lips, and her eyes were so dark and full of desire. She really wanted him, really wanted his help. It was all an act. "I suppose."

"Oh, thank you!" Kirsten smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She paused for a moment, then kissed him again, repeating this action over and over until she got to his lips. It was quite obvious that she was new to this sort of thing. "Um, you have done this before, right?" Chris smiled and raised his eyebrows to indicate that Yes, you're not the first, and Kirsten confidently smiled at him.

Kirsten stepped back and took no time removing her shirt. She stood for a few seconds, blouse in hand, before realizing how cold it was out. She started to shiver, but she tried her hardest to ignore it as she walked back in front of Chris. "Go on, then," she said.

Chris firmly grabbed her waist and pulled her in for a kiss, slowly moving down until he reached her exposed bra. By that time, Kirsten had gotten so impatient that she pushed him back and grabbed for his belt buckle, almost professionally undoing it. He stood in shock as she quickly unbuttoned his pants then moved on to her own. He had little time for standing around, though, as within a few moments she pulled him down to the ground.

"You're certainly in a rush," he awkwardly said as she lay on top of him, her hair pushed over to one shoulder.

"Shut up," she whispered, and proceeded to cover as much of his skin as she could with her lips. Chris laughed at her spunk as she made her way down his chest. It was all an act, but he was kinda enjoying it.

Certainly, having sex with Kirsten was not something that Chris had planned on for that evening, but it wasn't so bad. He had to hold back some laughter, though, when he realized that there was a high chance they were both thinking of Jonathan.


	3. Chapter 3

There was absolutely no denying that Devon was angry when Jonathan walked up to his house the next morning. It was a Saturday, and Jonathan really had nothing else to do, so he paid a visit to his dear friend, only to hear from quite a distance away Devon's abrasive voice screaming at Kirsten. He was standing, towering over her, and she was sitting in one of the porch chairs, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"How could you let him do that to you?" he shouted, and Kirsten closed her eyes and choked on a sob.

"I don't know, he was just so... charming," she cried. Jonathan quietly stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched the scene before him. Devon ran an aggravated hand through his hair and groaned. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jonathan patiently waiting.

"Hey, Jon," he quietly said. Jonathan said nothing in return, so Devon turned back to his sister. "Kirsten, you're thirteen."

"I know," she sobbed, and Jonathan noticed something odd about her composure. Her arms were folded tightly against her stomach and her legs were pressed tight against each other. It was almost as if she was trying to disappear into herself. "I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to me? None of this affects me, Kirsten, it only affects you."

"Devon, please, please don't tell anyone." She looked up at her brother with bloodshot eyes, desperate for his cooperation. "Especially not mum and dad."

"Don't tell anyone what?" Jonathan dumbly asked before he thought about it. He hadn't meant to intrude on their moment, but since he had anyway, he figured he might as well join them on the porch. He leaned against the railing and looked at Devon, who was wearing the most worried expression on his face.

"Looks like someone's let some curly-haired bastard take her virginity."

"What?" Jonathan looked quickly at Kirsten, who was sobbing uncontrollably, clearly ashamed of herself. He felt a crashing sound soar through his ears, and for a second he was afraid his legs had given out, but it was just the sound of his brain exploding.

"I know, right?" Devon said. "Why would you let some slimy- oh, God." Devon opened his eyes wide and lowered his voice, "You did let him, didn't you?"

"Yes!" Kirsten shouted. "God, Devon, he's not that bad! And anyway, I actually asked-" The three were silent for a few minutes, only the sounds of the world around them playing dully in the background. "Jonny, do you think I'm disgusting now?"

"Um, a little," he answered, though truthfully it was not for the reason she thought it was. Kirsten tightened her eyes and let loose a massive stream of tears. Jonathan thought maybe she was trying to dehydrate herself to death.

"Kirsten," Devon said in a hoarse voice, "there's no way you can be, you know... with child, right?" For a second it seemed as though Kirsten was going to cry even harder, if that was possible, but she actually stopped. Her eyes slowly shifted to her brother, and her jaw dropped a little.

"Oh..." She covered her mouth with one hand, and held her stomach tighter with the other. Meanwhile, Jonathan was having a silent panic attack, and everything was spinning. He left the pair of siblings, almost without excusing himself, and tried to walk home without collapsing. He managed to do so, though he was trembling horrifically the entire way. When he finally got home he rushed past his parents' nagging questions and ran to his room.

There was no way it was true. Chris wouldn't have done that. He told Jonathan- he promised Jonathan that he would never do anything like that, because it would ruin his reputation. It was just impossible.

Why, then, would Kirsten tell Devon about it? She was evil, yes, but not that evil. And she was certainly convincing.

Chris promised him, but he also said that he couldn't promise what would happen that night. Did Kirsten say she asked for it? She was going to say it, anyway, and Chris had told Jonathan that he needed to play the part with utter persuasion. So, if it did happen, it was all fake, just an act.

But it still hurt.

Jonathan stayed in his room for most of the remainder of the weekend, staring hopelessly at the ceiling and wishing his fate were different. There was hardly anything else for him to do, since he was so crushed, and he obviously would not have the opportunity to speak to Chris until Monday afternoon. His mother tried to talk to him, but he just ignored her until she went away.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Penny asked Jonathan, once again standing in his doorway despite her earlier rejection. "Jonathan, you've been in here all day, and-"

"I'm fine, mum," Jonathan droned, not moving at all. Penny nervously shifted around, hoping that her son would stop blocking her out of his problems.

"All right," she reluctantly gave in, and closed the door as she left to give him privacy.

On Monday, the lunch table was the quietest it had been in the history of Jonathan's school career. Jonathan hardly ever spoke during this time, but Devon's boisterous voice usually colored in the silence. This was far from the case now, as Devon was totally spaced out, staring at his sandwich with the most nauseous look on his face.

"Hey, man, if you're gonna puke, turn that way," Crack said, pointing at Steve, who was sitting on the other side of Devon.

"Yeah, I don't think so!" Steve retorted. "If you're gonna puke, why don't you go over there?" Steve nodded towards a group of boys on the other side of the cafeteria, and Jonathan didn't even have to turn around to know who he was talking about.

Devon looked up and over to where Steve had gestured, and his nausea turned to pure hatred. He clenched his fists together, hands shaking like crazy, and tightened his jaw until he couldn't tighten it any longer. The veins and muscles in his neck were prominent, and his breathing became very heavy.

"Whoa, man, calm down," Crack urged, placing a hand friendly on Devon's shoulder. Devon shrugged it off with as much force as he could muster, but soon calmed himself down. His gaze returned to the uneaten sandwich in front of him, and he let out a hefty sigh. Jonathan carefully observed his friend, feeling helpless and, unbeknown to everyone else, absolutely caught in the middle.

As soon as school ended, when Jonathan finally had the chance to talk to Chris, he nearly ran to the alley, figuring that Chris would already be there. He wasn't, but it was only a few minutes before he showed up. During the wait, Jonathan leaned against the side of the building and prepared what he wanted to say. Should he be direct about it, and flat out ask Chris what happened, or should he subtly hint at it? He thought about it over and over, but still couldn't reach a definite conclusion by the time Chris walked up.

"Jon, what's wrong?" Chris immediately asked, because Jonathan was looking at him with so much disdain.

"I know," Jonathan simply replied. Chris searched his face, his eyes filled with the hope that Jonathan wasn't talking about what Chris thought he was talking about. He couldn't find what he was looking for, though, so he began to stutter a response.

"Jon, I..."

"So, it is true?" Chris stared deeply at Jonathan, then slowly nodded. Jonathan clamped his eyes shut and let his head fall, too upset to care, and Chris whimpered feebly.

"Jon, I told you that I didn't know what was going to happen, and I needed to-"

"You didn't have to sleep with her!" Jonathan shouted with so much anger that Chris jumped a little.

Chris spoke with wide and frightened eyes as he said, "It was the stupidest thing for me to do... She wanted it, but I should have said no. This is all my fault." He paused for a moment, and for the first time since it happened, he realized what he'd done. "I... I should have thought about how jealous it would make you."

Jonathan took a deep breath and fought back his angry tears. "It was all an act?"

"Yes," Chris sincerely replied, but something in the back of his head told him that wasn't the right thing to say. Though, Jonathan seemed happy with this response, so he felt a little relieved.

"I have to go." Jonathan pushed himself off the side of the building and began to leave, stopping only when he was right next to Chris. He tried to summon the courage that he had set aside earlier, and mumbled, "I love you."

"I know," Chris smiled, "I love you, Jon." Jonathan looked at the big, blue eyes that were amorously staring at him, involuntarily smiled back, then walked away.

As he made his way to his mother's car, he wondered how she put up with him being so late everyday, and why she hardly ever asked him about it. He was grateful she didn't ask, though, as he probably wouldn't be able to come up with very many excuses. After all, you can only forget your books so many times.

"So, your father won't be home this evening," Penny casually said as she began to drive away from the school.

"He won't?" Jonathan asked, a slight excitement growing in him. Life was always easier when his father wasn't around.

"No, apparently he's going out drinking with some people from work."

Jonathan's excitement lapsed and he sank in his seat a little. "I thought he stopped drinking."

"So did I," Penny bitterly muttered. Jonathan sat in silence as he looked out the window, watching the pavement fly by beneath them. Alcohol and Randall were never a good mix.

For years, Randall had been a raging alcoholic. Sometimes he would gulp through three drinks in an hour, and he wouldn't be drinking for just the one hour. He would never have admitted it, though, even if he had believed it. That was just the kind of person he was.

He was rather abusive while intoxicated, too, always yelling and screaming over tiny, unimportant things, which, while it was not even so out of the ordinary in his sober time, made Randall into even more of a beast. Jonathan wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure he recalled his mother being badly bruised quite often during his childhood. And he knew his mother wouldn't have said anything about it to anyone.

But Randall had slowly cut down on his drinking, until one day he realized that no alcohol had passed through his body in the longest time he could remember. Since then, he'd been sober for nearly three years and seemed to be in control of his problem, but the news that he was going out drinking was absolutely horrible. Jonathan only hoped that his father would continue to control himself, even with the vile substance floating through his system.

"Jonathan," Penny finally spoke, gently and with as much caution as she could. She paused momentarily, trying to phrase her words correctly. "He's not a bad man, your father... you know that, right?"

"He's not?" Jonathan disbelievingly said, and sighed when he received a look from his mother. "I suppose he could be worse."

"He's not a bad man, he just likes things to be his way. Don't we all feel like that?"

"I guess, but there's a way to keep your feelings and actions separate," Jonny replied. "I would know."

Penny furrowed her eyebrows and glanced at her son. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Freezing with the realization of what he actually meant, Jonathan quickly coughed and spat out, "Oh, and like you don't do what dad asks even though you don't agree?"

Penny deflected her son's response, as she knew he was right, and said, "Just cut him some slack sometimes, all right? It's not easy being the head of a household, and he's really not a bad man."

"Fine," Jonathan unhappily grumbled. For the remaining duration of the car ride, Jonathan noticed just how often the conversations he had with his mother ended in some sort of tense or awkward silence, or both. They usually began that way, too.

Like at dinner that night, when the only sound in the room was the clock on the wall slowly ticking away, and the sound of forks scraping lightly against nearly empty plates. Jonathan was initially all right with the silence, an anti-social way of his, but his mother was clearly uncomfortable with it, which in turn made him uncomfortable.

"Mum, I feel like we should be talking or something," Jonathan said, dropping his fork on his plate and looking at his mother. She too let her fork rest on her plate, and clasped her fingers together on the table.

"Talking about what?" she asked with curious eyes.

"I don't know," Jonathan shrugged and looked away. "It's just too quiet in here."

"Well, Jonathan, you can always talk to me, you know that. If you ever have anything you need to get off your chest, or if you want to ask for advice, I'm always here."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean- I didn't mean that I had anything to say," Jonathan said, "just that, well... sometimes we chat, and it's a nice way to fill the silence. But I don't have anything to talk about."

"Oh," Penny said, sounding rather disappointed. She lifted her fork again and looked at it distastefully, but ate the food it held anyway. "Um, I'm getting a little tired, I think I'm going to have a rest upstairs." She pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress as she took her dinnerware over to the counter and left it sitting there without even putting away the extra food. Jonathan curiously watched as she did so, honestly baffled at his mother's sudden odd behavior. And he felt as though he'd let her down somehow.

The real let down came when Randall arrived back from his night out. Penny had returned to the kitchen to clean up what she had left behind, and Jonathan was quietly doing his homework at the kitchen table. The front door creaked open, then slammed shut, and a stumbling man burst into view through the kitchen doorway.

Jonathan looked up from his textbook and over to his father. Randall's eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and Jonathan guessed that he had trouble controlling himself.

"Randall!" Penny brightly welcomed her husband. She finished drying the plate she held and set it down on the counter. Jonathan was unsure of why she was so bubbly, because his father was obviously in a bad state. She perkily pranced over to Randall and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hey, Pen..." Randall slurred, then paused to hiccup, "Penny. What's for dinner?"

"There's a plate of steak and mashed potatoes left for you. I can heat it up now, if you want," she said. Randall nodded, and Penny was soon off to supply her husband with food. Randall stumbled over to the seat next to Jonathan and collapsed, shaking the table and nearly making Jonathan slash a line through his paper.

"Hey, dad," Jonathan said, trying to hold his breath as the stench of alcohol sailed through his nasal passage. "Have a nice evening, I take it?"

Randall lowered his eyes, which were going in and out of focus, at Jonathan and groaned. "Why don't you go do that in your room?"

Jonathan took one look at his father and began to pack away his things. "Gladly," he quietly mumbled, and much to his dismay, Randall heard.

"What did you say?" he asked, raising his voice. Jonathan stood up and stared at him with tired eyes.

"As you wish, sir," Jonathan clearly and defiantly said. Before he left, he shot a glance at his mother, who was giving him a horrified look. He should have felt bad for getting his father all riled up and then leaving his mother alone with him, but he was too disgusted to care. He snobbishly grabbed his bag from the table and stormed off to his room.

"What's his problem?" Randall asked, looking at his wife for an answer. She was staring, though, at the place where Jonathan had just been moments before.

"I wish I knew."


	4. Chapter 4

She had to do it. There was no question. Anyway, she was already holding the paper bag in her hand, already standing at Jonathan's doorstep. To turn back now would be a waste of time, of money, and she needed to know the answer. Nervousness flooded her system, naturally, and she slowly raised her shaky hand to knock on the door.

She wondered how obvious she was. If someone walked by and took two seconds to look at her, it would probably be more than enough to know everything that she'd done and was going to do. Or, if someone opened the door and it happened to be Jonathan's mother, when she asked for him, Penny would look at her with total repulsion, because she would know. She would know, and she would hate it, and she would have every right to.

Instead, she received a warm, "Kirsten! I didn't expect to see you!" from Penny when the door opened.

Kirsten nervously chuckled, pushing some of her dark hair behind her ear, and said, "Well, I was wondering if I could see Jonny? It's real important."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go get him for you." Penny kindly smiled and closed the door. Kirsten tapped her foot while she was waiting, anxious and really wanting to get her life over with. Not that she wanted to die or anything, she just didn't feel like being herself at the moment.

"What is it?" Jonathan asked from behind the door. Kirsten looked at him and frowned.

"Jonny, I need your help," she began. "I couldn't ask Devon, because he already hates me, and you're the only other person who..." Kirsten leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper, "who knows about... what I did."

Jonathan considered her request, and while he did so he noticed the bag she was carrying. His eyes widened as he realized what its contents were. "Kirsten."

"Jonny, I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't absolutely important. I mean, do you think I want to be doing this? No," she immediately answered, "I'd much rather be at home, sleeping or something. But, Jonny, this is the path my life is taking, and whether you like it or not, you seem to be a part of it."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at her for a while, thinking that she probably didn't know as much as she made it sound, and finally agreed. She smiled at him, though it was halfhearted and sad.

"Come on," Jonathan told Kirsten as he led her down the hallway of the second floor and to the bathroom. He stopped at one door near the end, and pushed it open, allowing Kirsten to enter the room.

"Thank you so, so much, Jonny," she said before closing the door. "I really owe you one."

"I think you owe me more than one," Jonathan said, though mostly to himself, as Kirsten had already closed the bathroom door and couldn't hear him. While he waited for her to finish, he sat down and leaned his head against the wall.

What a mess this whole situation was. He was pulled into it, too, only made his problem by association. He didn't even get to do anything, but he was still paying the price. So much drama, and crying. There was quite a lot of crying. In fact, there was crying now.

Pregnancy tests were something that Jonathan had never dealt with before, and had never needed to deal with before, so he wasn't exactly sure how long it was supposed to take before Kirsten would get the results. But, five minutes after she went into the bathroom, Jonathan heard sobbing, so he gently knocked on the door and asked to come in.

Kirsten was indeed crying, collapsed into a pile on the floor. She didn't look up at Jonathan, but she kept crying and mumbled a bunch of unintelligible words, which forced Jonathan to ask her what the hell she was saying.

"What am I gonna do?" she asked as she looked up at him, or tried to; her eyes were so filled with tears that even Jonathan was having a hard time seeing. "Jonny, what am I gonna do?"

"Uh... take the pregnancy test?" Jonathan dumbly replied.

Kirsten's eyes hardened, and through her clenched teeth she said, "I already did that." Jonathan quickly looked up on the counter and saw the tiny stick with a plus sign on it.

"Oh, shit."

"You think?" Kirsten shrieked, and began to cry again. "Oh, my God, what am I gonna do?"

"Kirsten, you have to tell your parents." Kirsten feverishly shook her head. Jonathan knelt down beside her and grabbed her shoulders. "You have to."

"I can't, Jonny, I can't. There's no way. I can't do any of this."

"Well, you can't just-" Jonathan was interrupted by his own thoughts, and Kirsten's painful stare did nothing but reassure him that he was correct. "No, Kirsten, don't."

"I don't see I have any other choice," Kirsten sniffed. "It's not like I can really raise a kid, Jonny, I'm thirteen."

"Do you think maybe you should have thought about that before you went and rolled around with Chris?" Jonathan spat with much more force than he meant. More force than he thought he meant, at least. Deep down, though, he thought Kirsten deserved everything as some sort of punishment, even though her punishment only dragged him further into the situation. Kirsten looked at him, frightened, and started to cry once more. "There's always adoption, anyway."

"I don't know if I can even handle carrying a baby," Kirsten quietly said. She sat back and leaned against the counter. "I wish I had a time machine, so I could go back and slap myself."

"Why did you sleep with him, anyway?" Jonathan asked, sitting beside Kirsten.

"I..." She looked up at Jonathan, looked deep into his eyes, those green eyes she loved so, so much, and lied. "I don't know, something just came over me, and I really wanted it. For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea... I don't think that anymore."

Jonathan sighed and stood up. "Kirsten, please go home now. And, please, at least tell Devon."

"Devon's gonna hate me," she said, standing up and walking to the door. "I hate me." She turned around and took a long look at Jonathan. "Thank you, Jonny, for your help."

"My pleasure," he sarcastically muttered, and watched as Kirsten walked out of the room and down the hallway. He heard her trudge down the stairs, and pushed his hand against the counter behind him for support.

That's when he noticed that the test was still laying out in the open on the counter. Not wanting to really touch it, he quickly flicked it into the garbage, along with the paper bag and box next to it. By this point he had a major headache, so he decided to lay down for a while.

He didn't get as much rest as he had hoped, because while his head felt like his brain was trying to squeeze its way out, his mind was still racing. Just one week ago, he was laying on the very same bed, thinking about how lucky he was. Now he was thinking just the opposite.

So, Chris slept with Kirsten. They both regretted it now- not like that did anyone much good. Jonathan was thrown into all of this in the weirdest way he could have imagined. Now his best friend's sister, who was completely infatuated with him, was having a baby that was fathered by his secret boyfriend. His life was feeling more and more made-for-TV by the minute.

That is exactly why he didn't need the drama of the following morning. Devon did not take too kindly to the news of Kirsten's pregnancy, which Jonathan concluded as he stood outside in the schoolyard, waiting for his friend. Devon stormed right past Jonathan and straight to the entrance of the school. He was curving to the right a bit, though, because he had no intention on going inside at that moment.

He pushed through some of the boys that were gathered around Chris, until he made his way to the boy in the middle. Chris was paying attention to someone on his left, but his focus was soon switched as Devon tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't have much time to say anything, though, before Devon's fist collided with his jaw.

The other boys around them gasped and ooh-ed, but no one did anything. Jonathan ran over to the scene, while Devon grabbed Chris's blazer and shoved him up against the building. Before Jonathan could stop him, Devon managed to both knee Chris in the groin and punch him in the stomach. Blood was dripping from Chris's mouth as Jonathan yanked Devon away. Jonathan pushed Devon as far away as he could, while Chris fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

"Devon, calm down," Jonathan forcefully said as he fought to hold Devon back. Devon was shaking hard, and Jonathan chanced a look at Chris. He was laying in the fetal position, the still-dripping blood splashing on the ground and mixing with his tears. Some of the other boys had bent down to check on him now, and as he watched, Jonathan felt completely helpless, even though he had technically saved Chris from Devon's awful wrath.

"I will not fucking calm down," Devon hissed, though he didn't fight against Jonathan's hold. "That fucking pretentious douchebag fucking knocked up my sister."

"I know, Devon, OK? I was there when she took the test," Jonathan said, easing his grip a little. "But, I mean, Chris doesn't even know yet. You could cut him the tiniest bit of slack, you know."

"No, I'd much rather cut his throat," Devon grumbled, but he couldn't keep up the excessive anger for much longer, mostly because the nurse was outside, tending to Chris, and a few authoritative figures were marching towards Devon, looking very disciplinary. Jonathan let him go and walked back to let the adults deal with him.

The nurse was trying, with great difficulty, to get Chris up on his feet long enough to bring him inside. He could barely even move while still laying on the ground. Eventually she gave up and rushed back inside to retrieve a stretcher, or perhaps to call an ambulance. Jonathan wanted more than anything to walk over and comfort Chris, but the only thing he could do was just stand and watch from afar.

Devon was suspended from school for two weeks, during which time he was to participate in 45 hours of community service. And, of course, he was grounded for as long as his parents were still alive. Chris had suffered a ruptured spleen, an injury which required a four-day stay in the hospital. Somehow, throughout all of this, the news of Kirsten's pregnancy managed to stay only between Devon, Jonathan, and Kirsten.

Jonathan thought about telling Chris when he came back from the hospital. They met after school on Wednesday like usual, but there was hardly any time at all. They only had a few minutes to spare before their parents would arrive to pick them up, and Chris had decided to claim the time as his own.

"Oh, I missed you," Chris whispered as he pulled Jonathan close to him, wrapping his arms around the other boy's neck. "I missed holding you, I missed how you feel."

"I missed you, too, but you were only gone for four days," Jonathan softly laughed. "Two of those days we wouldn't have seen each other, anyway."

"Five days, Jonathan, I didn't see you Friday, either," Chris corrected. "And besides, I went through something horrible, and I felt like I was all by myself, even though so many people visited to make sure I was all right."

"I would have gladly been one of those people, you know that."

"Yes, I know. I wish you could have been." Chris lovingly curled his fingers around the hair at the back of Jonathan's neck. "Can I tell you something, Jon?"

"What?"

"When I was in the hospital, there was this one nurse who tended to my stitches. Sometimes she'd be in the room four or five times a day. She was a lovely woman, very nice, and she had these amazing eyes." Jonathan lowered his eyebrows a bit, Chris's dreamy tone shift beginning to worry him. "Amazing green eyes, and every time I looked at her, or she looked at me, I'd melt, because they reminded me of you. In fact, sometimes I wished she'd stop by just to ask how I was doing."

"Oh," Jonathan said, still a bit unsure of how to react.

"I really, really missed you," Chris continued, and he gave Jonathan a peck on the cheek. "Listen, Jon, I was thinking... remember a few weeks ago, when we met by the diner?"

"Of course."

"It was very fun, and, well," Chris began, his signature cheeky grin sliding its way onto his face, "I was thinking maybe we could do it again, but go somewhere a lot more private, for a lot longer, and have a lot more fun."

"Yeah," Jonathan breathlessly replied, because the way Chris was biting his lip was killing him. "Where did you have in mind?"

"Tomorrow, wait a few minutes before you leave the school, then head straight to the shop in town. I'll meet you there."

"Meet in the store?" Jonathan gaped. Chris nodded his head, and for a second Jonathan thought he was crazy, but Chris seemed to know what he was doing. "Alright. But, Chris, there's something I have to tell you-"

Just then, a car horn sounded, causing Jonathan to slightly jump. Chris just looked out of the alley and sighed. Without saying anything, he turned back and kissed Jonathan, then whispered, "Shop in town. Don't forget," and left.

Jonathan watched Chris walk away, made notice of how nicely his charcoal trousers stretched over his tight behind, then slowly counted down from 100. He grew impatient by twenty, and decided to just leave. When he got into his mother's car, he noticed that she had been crying. He asked her what was wrong, but she simply started the engine and began to drive away.

Four minutes went by, and with only one more street to clear before arriving home, Penny finally answered. She sniffed and gently wiped her cheek.

"Everything's fine," quietly said, but her voice was shaky and Jonathan knew she was lying.

"Mum, obviously it's not," Jonathan replied, watching as his mother forced herself to hold back tears. She didn't say another word until the car stopped in their driveway, and she pulled the key out of the ignition.

"It doesn't feel great when you don't know what's going on, does it?" Jonathan apologetically looked at his mother. She seemed so sad. He felt absolutely torn; he wanted to tell her about everything that was happening, but he knew he couldn't. She'd probably be even more disappointed than she already was.

Jonathan wanted to at least apologize for shutting her out of his life, but he took too long, and she was already out of the car by the time he opened his mouth. Instead, he followed her inside and quickly went upstairs, literally throwing his bag into his room from the doorway. When he returned downstairs, Penny was sitting at the kitchen table, so he decided to join her.

Penny was writing in what looked like an old journal; it was a book, at least, and from what Jonathan could see, the edges of the cover looked a bit tattered. She could see her son sit down beside her, but she kept her eyes on the page. Jonathan tried to look at what she was writing, but soon gave up. He was going to ask her what she was writing, but he figured that she probably wouldn't answer.

It was so frustrating. Jonathan felt like there was absolutely nothing he could do, because he couldn't talk to his mother, and that's all she wanted from him. He stared at her for the longest time, trying to think of a way to fix things between them, but there was a knock at the door before he came up with anything.

He opened the door to find Kirsten, blankly staring at him. She asked to come inside, and while she was being extremely vague, Jonathan allowed her to do so. Penny looked up from her seat and offered Kirsten to sit down with them. Kirsten graciously accepted, and told Penny that she needed her help. Penny seemed more than thrilled that she could actually be of use to someone.

"You see, I'm in a bit of trouble, and I don't want my parents to be mad at me," Kirsten began to explain. "I was wondering if maybe you could give me some advice."

"What sort of trouble are you in?" Penny kindly asked.

"I'm, uh..." Kirsten paused for a moment, then decided to just dive right in. "I'm pregnant."

Penny was unresponsive for a while, her face wrought with shock. "You're pregnant? Like, a child is developing inside of you?"

"That's what I was always told being pregnant was," Kirsten nervously joked. Penny didn't find it the least bit funny, though, and Kirsten soon regretted saying it. Suddenly, Penny's eyes went wide and she quickly glanced at her son.

"Jonathan's not the father, is he?" Penny asked. Kirsten immediately shook her head, and Penny looked relieved.

"Though, it would probably make things easier," Kirsten muttered. "But, no, he's not the father. Penny, what do you think I should do?"

Penny looked at Kirsten and calmly replied, "What do you want to do?"

Kirsten furrowed her eyebrows and looked down at her hands. "I'd like to go back and stop this from happening." She moved one of her hands to her stomach. "I can't be a mother."

"Adoption?"

Kirsten watched her stomach, rubbed it with her hand, and nodded. "I should." Penny softly smiled.

"Have you told the father?" she asked, and Kirsten shook her head. "And I assume your parents don't know?" Kirsten shook her head again, and Penny sighed. "I suggest you tell them before you do anything else."

Kirsten sat in silence and though over Penny's words, then she flicked her eyes up at Jonathan. "Jonny, will you come with me when I tell them?"

"Uh, I don't know," Jonathan nervously replied. "I mean, would your parents really like it if a boy came along to tell them you're pregnant?"

"Jonathan's right, Kirsten," Penny said. "This is something that you need to do on your own. After all, if you're going to be a mother, you need to learn to be responsible. This would be a good place to start."

Reluctantly, Kirsten agreed to Penny's advice, and left after thanking the pair for their help. Penny went back to writing in her mysterious book, and by now Jonathan was tired of being a disappointment, so he went up to his room, where at least he couldn't see his mother looking so upset.

Jonathan could never work out why he spent so much time in his room. There was never anything to do up there, and most of the time he just stared into space and daydreamed away the hours. He supposed that it was much nicer than having to deal with reality, which never dealt kindly with him.

Randall was home not too long after Kirsten left. Jonathan heard the door and heard his father greeting his mother, but after that things were quiet. It didn't unnerve him much, until he realized that it was really dark outside, and he'd not been called down to dinner.

Jonathan slowly crept down the steps, the eerie silence making him feel as though he was in a horror movie. He didn't find any dead bodies bathing in pools of blood, though, but he did find his father asleep in front of the TV and his mother cuddled up next to him, also asleep. He looked at the clock on the wall; it was only seven-thirty. He spun around and looked into the kitchen.

The light was on, but there wasn't any food that had been taken out, and obviously no one was in there. As Jonathan began to walk into the kitchen, his parents stirred, and his mother caught sight of the time and apologized for falling asleep. Jonathan told her it was all right, and that he was just a bit worried, and Randall told him there was nothing to be worried about. Despite Randall's often unruly temper, Jonathan felt as though he could trust his father's reassurance. He didn't think about it right then, but his parents actually getting along may have been the only thing that was going right in his life.

Dinner was quiet, but peaceful. Since it had taken longer to prepare the meal than Penny had hoped, it was nearly time for Jonathan to be in bed by the time they finished. Jonathan accepted this, though, because as of late he found himself becoming increasingly tired. He nearly forgot to mention to his mother that he would once again be going into town after school the next day, but when he did she agreed without any further comment.

As he lay in bed, Jonathan tried not to think, which proved to be a great challenge. He didn't even want to think about Chris, because even though he loved the blue-eyed boy, Chris was every bit the cause of his troubles as every other thing. Plus, he still hated that he couldn't have been of more assistance to Chris after Devon's bout of rage. Of course, the more he tried to block his thoughts, the more he kept thinking. He grew so tired after a while that he just gave up and let his mind roam free until he was unconscious.

School was more of a drag than usual the next day. It had already been a few days since Devon's suspension had begun, but the table was still not use to the absence of his colorful personality. Jonathan barely even looked at the other boys at the table, but when he did he noticed just how boring they really were. He also realized just how anti-social he was. Being twins, Steve and Matt were together most of the time, and therefore it was not so surprising that they had many tales to tell. But the other boys, they told just as many stories as the twins, and Jonathan couldn't help feeling like an outsider. The only person he ever hung out with was Devon, and even then they never really did much except for play video games.

After a while, he stopped caring, though, and just ignored the other boys. He slowly watched his food disappear from his tray, and filled his mind with thoughts of that afternoon. He was still a bit unsure of what Chris had planned, and he was especially nervous about the idea of them meeting in a public place. Eventually, though not nearly soon enough, the day ended and all the boys began to leave the school. Jonathan stalled for a bit like Chris had told him, then began to make the journey to the store.

Sure enough, Chris was in one of the front aisles when Jonathan arrived. Chris had never told him more than where to meet, yet somehow as Jonathan walked past, he knew exactly what to do. He stayed a safe distance away from Chris, harmlessly browsing the merchandise that stocked the shelves. When he saw Chris head towards the register, he knew he was meant to follow.

"It's a lovely day out, isn't it?" Jonathan heard Chris casually ask the cashier. She gave him a tired look and uninterestedly agreed. She practically threw his change at him, obviously not in a good mood, and Chris told her not to be so kind. Then, as he spun around, he said loudly to Jonathan, "Women," and rolled his eyes. Jonathan was absolutely shocked at Chris's boldness, until he realized that Chris had meant for them to seem like strangers. The cashier certainly wasn't going to care, anyway, and maybe Jonathan's shock came off as a repulsion to this strange boy who decided to speak to him. Another realization came to Jonathan soon after he placed his items on the counter, which was that Chris was already outside the store, and that he was putting far too much thought into the whole thing. He paid, then left, and as he walked out the door he caught sight of Chris rounding the corner.

He walked down the sidewalk and followed along Chris's path, which eventually led to somewhere Jonathan had never been before. It was simple- a rather large, rundown building that looked as though it could once have housed a giant, but was now just uselessly discarded- yet it was perfect. The building was not only huge, it was so far out of the way of everything that there was no way anyone would think of going there.

"Wasn't that such a rush?" Chris beamed as he and Jonathan sat together against the building. Chris was holding a bar of chocolate in his one hand, and with his other he tossed another bar to Jonathan.

"All we did was stand next to each other for a minute," Jonathan said, gracefully catching the bar and unwrapping it.

"I know, it's so sad that that's what we've been demeaned to." Chris sadly shook his head and broke off part of the chocolate. "Still, though, we really showed them."

Jonathan laughed at the other boy, sweetly, though, and once they'd finished the chocolate bars, Chris pulled him up from the ground. A random thought popped into Jonathan's head; everyone always commented on Chris's height, but Jonathan was equally as tall. Then again, Jonathan always shied away from the boys at school, and he wouldn't have been surprised if most of them didn't know he existed.

Chris looked at Jonathan for what seemed like five minutes, just staring and drinking in the sight before him. Jonathan stared back, and soon he found himself smiling at Chris. It seemed like that was just what Chris was hoping for, because as soon as Jonathan smiled, Chris grabbed him and pulled him forward a few steps, until the two boys were a mere inch apart.

But Chris found himself oddly nervous. It wasn't as though he and Jonathan had never done anything before. He felt very strange, though, and he felt the same love for Jonathan as he always had, but he couldn't even find the courage to kiss him. Something was wrong, very wrong, and Chris blinked his eyes a few times, but that did nothing to control his state.

The suddenly the source of his odd behavior made itself known. A sharp pain in Chris's abdomen nearly doubled him over, and Jonathan grabbed him and helped him to the ground.

"Chris, are you OK?" Jonathan asked, holding Chris's head in his hands. Chris was obviously not OK, but Jonathan wanted to hear him speak at least.

"No," Chris simply replied. "Jonathan, you need to- ah!- you need to get out of here, I have to call my mum or something."

"How are you going to explain to her why you were here?"

"I'll figure something out, don't worry, but I can't have you here when she comes." Chris grabbed his stomach and groaned. "Jonathan, please."

Jonathan did as Chris told him, and left the poor boy laying against the side of the building. It was the way it had to be, and just before he was out of sight, Jonathan took one look back at Chris. He was already in a miserable state, and who knew how long it would take before anyone showed up to help him? Jonathan knew he had to leave, though, so he rounded the side of the building, Chris's painful moans still ringing in his ears, just glad that he could once again be of no help whatsoever.


	5. Chapter 5

Because of the sudden medical issue, Jonathan had completely forgotten to mention Kirsten to Chris. He figured that she probably had still not told her parents, otherwise Chris probably would have known and acted differently. There was no way to know for sure, though, at least not until the next day.

Jonathan was laying on his bed, his trusty haven from the sick wonders of the world. The ceiling tiles above him were smooth and stark white, but all he could see was Chris laying in pain. He resented everything; he resented his parents, he resented society, and for a second, he resented Chris. It wasn't Chris's fault, of course, that he was so lovable, but Jonathan couldn't think of anyone else to blame.

Randall was once again intoxicated when he arrived home, very late that night. Jonathan was totally insomniac, and he guessed that it was probably around midnight when he heard the front door. He could hear Randall stumbling to his parents' bedroom, and he hoped that his mother was not still awake. The least she needed was to be kept awake by her relapsing husband.

At some point, it became morning, and Jonathan's alarm clock kindly reminded him that he had yet to fall asleep. He blinked his heavy lids at the beeping electronic, and forcefully slapped his hand down to shut it off. He heaved a tired sigh and got out of bed, making a mental note that he still needed to move his lamp back to its proper place.

After he dressed, Jonathan went downstairs, where he found his mother sitting quietly at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea. Jonathan wondered if she knew about Randall, but he didn't ask her. Instead, he merely walked to the counter and made himself two slices of wheat toast. The jam was sitting on the table, so he sat down next to his mother and began to spread the purple substance on the toasted bread.

"So, you haven't been around to Devon's in a while," Penny nonchalantly said. She took a brief sip of her tea, and looked at her son over the edge of the cup. He kept his head down, but he didn't ignore her completely.

"Yeah."

"Is everything all right between you two?" Penny set her cup down, and Jonathan stopped jamming his toast, set the knife down on his plate, and looked up at his mother.

"He's grounded. He got into a fight at school." Jonathan read his mother's face in the silence; the worried lines across her visage were deepening and multiplying with each day. There were bags under her eyes, and Jonathan wondered if she'd had the same trouble sleeping as he had. He supposed that his mother was probably going through not exactly the same situation as he was, but one that was similarly stressing. "He wasn't very happy with Kirsten."

"The boy who's the father, he goes to your school?" Jonathan nodded, and Penny continued, "Do you know him?"

"Nope," Jonathan answered immediately, and for a second he worried that maybe he said it too quickly. His held his breath, but his mother hadn't noticed anything, so he sighed in relief. Penny, however, took this as a strained sigh.

"Jonathan, I know you won't tell me anything, but I just want to tell you that whatever you're going through, it will all be OK in the end." Penny smiled at Jonathan, but her eyes began to water. Jonathan was completely moved by her words, the care he could feel behind them, and he was overcome with the feeling to speak.

"Mum, I-"

"No," Penny decisively interrupted, "Jonathan, everyone is entitled to their secrets." She reached her hand forward and placed it motherly on her son's arm. She kept it there for a brief moment, then leaned back in her seat. "Now, hurry up and eat, so we can leave."

Jonathan did as he was told, almost devouring the toast as some sort of hungry beast would, and the two left the house. The usual silence filled the small car, but there was much less tension than ever before.

"Have a good day, sweetheart," Penny told Jonathan as he left the car. He held on to the door as he stood outside, leaned back into the car a bit, and smiled.

"You too, mum." With that, he closed the car door and walked up to the school. His spirits were high, until he looked over to the crowd of boys and realized that he had no idea what had happened to Chris after he left. But as he walked closer, a mop of curly hair began to show through the middle of the crowd, and not long after Jonathan could see Chris's beaming face.

This time, instead of quickly shooting a loving glance at Jonathan, Chris's face fell and he looked apologetically at the other boy for what Jonathan felt was much longer than he should have. His message was loud and clear, though, and Jonathan tried to silently tell Chris that he was just glad he was all right.

Chester walked into the building just seconds after Jonathan, and he felt the need to shove Jonathan into one of the lockers with as much force as he could muster.

"Careful there, clumsy," he laughed as Jonathan reassembled himself. "Wouldn't want to damage that face and make it uglier than it already is."

"Chester, man, fuck off," Jonathan spat, and continued his path to his locker. Chester ignored his demand, though, and followed him, continuing to throw the lamest insults.

When Jonathan didn't respond to any of his words, Chester blazed, "What is your problem?" Jonathan shot him the deepest look of hatred and shut his locker.

"I don't have a problem, you're the one who's all up in my face." Jonathan walked right past Chester, who spun around and looked on in disappointment.

"Yeah, but it's no fun if you don't say anything back," he called on as Jonathan left. Chester sighed, and Jonathan disappeared into his classroom.

Tom took the seat next to Jonathan in lunch, which was odd. There were seven boys at the table, so they usually split into four and three on opposite sides. It seemed that no matter where anyone else sat, Jonathan was always on the side with three, always at the end, and Tom always purposely avoided sitting next to Jonathan. He didn't know why, though, but it just appeared to be the way things were. That Tom suddenly decided to sit next to Jonathan was absolutely baffling.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but why are you sitting next to me?" Jonathan inquired as Tom pulled his lunch from his backpack. Tom set his food down on the table, then slowly turned his entire body to Jonathan.

"Am I not allowed to?" He looked at Jonathan with wide, alert eyes, as if he was fearful he'd made some deep mistake.

"No, of course you're allowed to, I just thought you were avoiding me." Tom slightly tilted his head, cocked one eyebrow and stared at Jonathan. After about thirty seconds, he let out a huge gasp.

"Did you really think I was avoiding you? I didn't mean to, in fact, I didn't even realize that I've never sat next to you before. Until now, that is." Tom turned his body back to a position more conforming with the chair, and thoughtfully gazed upon his lunch bag. "Funny how things like that can happen, huh?"

"Yeah, funny," Jonathan plainly repeated, and took a bite of his own lunch. "Well, at least you weren't avoiding me."

"Of course not, I would never avoid anyone," Tom said, but with a mouth full of turkey sandwich. Jonathan could have sworn he felt tiny bits of food fly at him, and he instantly realized why people didn't like Tom. It wasn't just because he was American, he was also kinda rude. Then again, half of the other boys in the school were just as rude, if not a thousand times more, so maybe the American thing really did play a huge part.

Tom wasn't so bad as a conversationalist, though, which Jonathan discovered during their time spent sitting next to each other. Having been from America, Tom knew a lot about things Jonathan had never even heard of, and he was glad to spread his knowledge to anyone willing to listen. Jonathan wasn't really willing to listen, but that's how Tom interpreted his unwillingness to talk, so he showered him with facts about the Finger Lakes. By the time they parted, Jonathan knew almost every useless thing there was to know about them, not that his newfound knowledge stayed with him for much longer.

As the time for Jonathan to meet with Chris drew closer, his thoughts were clouded with ways to tell Chris about Kirsten's state. He played out about fifty different scenarios in his head, but none of them felt right.

Hey, Chris, I'm glad to see you're all right. By the way, you're going to be a father! How lovely. He felt like that one was too cheery, considering the complications of the whole thing, but unfortunately that was the best one he could come up with. While he was walking out of the building, though, he remembered something he'd once heard (where, he had forgotten): always account for variable change. There was absolutely no way he could plan how to tell Chris, because, much like the events of the past few weeks, he didn't know what was actually going to happen. So, he took a deep breath as the alley came into view, and prayed for the best.

"Oh, Jonathan, it was awful," Chris said as he was explaining the events after Jonathan had left the previous day. "I can't remember what the doctor said, but he gave me some sort of medication, and things seem to be fine now. But it was awful."

"I couldn't stand to see you like that," Jonathan told him, gently brushing Chris's cheek. "I wanted to stay, I wanted to help."

"Of course," Chris whispered, grabbing Jonathan's other hand. "I would have loved for you to be there. And Jon, I wanted so badly to be with you yesterday. Really be with you," Chris emphasized, and a flash of fear sparked through his bright blue eyes for one tiny fraction of a second. "Why does the world hate us?"

"Bad things do seem to keep happening, huh?" Jonathan replied, hoping that he'd soon have the chance to tell Chris what he needed to know.

"Devon hit me because of his sister, didn't he?" Chris asked as if he already knew what Jonathan was thinking. Jonathan's blank stare was enough of an answer, but he still felt the need to speak.

"Yeah," Jonathan slowly nodded. "Listen, Chris-"

"Doesn't he realize I know that I made a mistake?" Chris's voice was teeming with the beginnings of anger. "It was all a mistake... it shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah, but that little 'shouldn't have' has turned into a human being," Jonathan quietly retorted. Chris stared, empty and shocked, and his face became pale. His eyes glassed over and his body slowly realized that no oxygen was entering his system, so it tried to frantically inflate and deflate his lungs. His fingers trembled and his knees went weak. His hyperventilation caused him to start coughing, and he pushed himself into Jonathan for support.

When he finally calmed down enough to speak, all he said was, "No," and his voice was hoarse and cracked. He felt Jonathan's hand rub up and down his back, but nothing could take away the pain he felt. He already deeply regretted that night with Kirsten, even though he at first thought that maybe he enjoyed it too much. He didn't. He didn't enjoy it at all, and now there was going to be this thing, this living, breathing thing that would always be there to remind him of what he did.

"Kirsten's going to tell her parents," Jonathan whispered in Chris's ear, as soothingly as he could. "I think she's thinking about adoption."

Chris pulled back from Jonathan and looked at him. He knew this was finally the time when Jonathan could help him, make him feel better, but he couldn't stay. "I have to go," he nearly cried, pushing away from Jonathan and running off. Jonathan was hurt by this, no doubt, but he couldn't stop Chris from leaving, and he knew he shouldn't. His mother was probably waiting for him, anyway.

He dragged his feet along the pavement as he crossed the street to get to his mother's car. She'd probably yell at him for scuffing the bottoms of his shoes, but he didn't care. He didn't feel like picking his feet up. He also didn't feel like being himself, but as he had no control over that, he decided that controlling his feet would have to do.

He was just so angry with Kirsten. She was one of those people that was always there in Jonathan's life, but had never really played any sort of major role. Mostly she was just a background character, occasionally misbehaving and causing trouble for Devon. Nothing that ever really affected Jonathan, until that one night. Since then, Kirsten was everywhere. He wouldn't have minded it so much, if she hadn't been inadvertently taking Chris away from him. That was what angered him the most.

Of course, it had never occurred to him to be angry with Chris. In his eyes, Chris hadn't done anything wrong. Kirsten was to blame for everything, to him at least, which was only partially close to reality. But he loved Chris too much to see any faults or flaws.

What he didn't realize was that Kirsten was trying to keep Chris out of her future as much as she could. Like Jonathan, she blamed herself, and she didn't want Chris around for a few reasons. One was that she didn't want to face the truth of her actions, which she knew would already be a difficult task, especially when her stomach would begin to expand. The other reason was that because she blamed herself, she didn't think it would be fair to Chris to drag him into the mess she created. That's why she never told her parents who the father was.

"Pregnant?" Kirsten's mother shrieked. Her father was too stunned to say anything, instead he just sat, staring wide-eyed across the room. "You mean you've," she made a motion with her hand in order to not have to say the word, "with a boy?"

"Yeah," Kirsten simply said, nodding a little. She looked back and forth between her parents and whimpered a little. "I'm so sorry."

"Who?" Kirsten's father bluntly asked, his deep voice filled with fatherly rage.

"I..." Kirsten stuttered, trying to come up with a way to avoid telling who. Eventually, her muddled brain decided on, "No one," which she immediately realized was not going to work.

"Kirsten, you tell me right now, so I can go out there and kill him."

"You'd really kill the father of your unborn grandchild?" Kirsten hoped her father would calm down, but her question didn't do much to change his attitude.

"Fine, I won't kill him, I'll just kick his ass." Her father stood up and walked over to where she was standing, and towered over her as Devon once had. "Now tell me who."

"I don't want to say," Kirsten replied, cowering a little. "I don't want him to be a part of this, anyway."

"Kirsten," he sternly said.

"Come off it, sweetie, she's not gonna tell you. It doesn't matter anyway, what's done is done," her mother said. Though reluctant, her father backed off and sat down beside her mother once more. "Kirsten, what are you going to do about the baby?"

"I was thinking about adoption," Kirsten said. "I'm sure there's someone who could use this baby more than I could."

"You do realize what you're going to go through just carrying the baby, don't you?" Kirsten silently nodded, and her mother sighed. "I can't believe you would let this happen, Kirsten."

"I know, I was being really, really stupid. But, trust me, I'm never doing that again. Not for a very long time, at least."

"Yeah, like not until you're 30," her father spat.

"Yeah."

"I don't think I want you even dating until then," he continued. Kirsten honestly didn't think he was being too ridiculous; in fact, she probably would have set the same limit for herself. She was just glad that her parents didn't freak out too much, or not more than she had expected, anyway.

"Why didn't you tell them it was Chris?" Devon asked Kirsten as she was walking into her room. She turned around. Devon was standing in his doorway, arms folded across his chest.

"I don't want anything to do with him," she replied, "and you already hurt him enough. I don't want dad going after him, too."

"You don't think he deserves it?" Devon asked, walking towards Kirsten and letting his arms drop to his side. "You don't think that after what he did-"

"He didn't do anything, Devon, I did," Kirsten yelled, but quickly lowered her voice to not catch the attention of her parents.

"Oh, really?" Devon laughed, "'Cause there's at least one thing he'd have to do in order for you to get pregnant."

Kirsten flared her nostrils at her brother, wishing that he'd just leave her alone. "He didn't want to. He said no at first, but I practically forced him. It's my fault, OK?"

"Whatever, you're just lucky I lied to them about why I hit him," Devon said. "Otherwise they'd know. It's pretty obvious."

Kirsten stared at Devon for a few moments, then began to laugh. "Penny asked if it was Jonny, can you believe that?"

"No, actually. Jon never even talks about girls, I can't imagine him sleeping with one." Devon paused and narrowed his eyes. "Not that I'd want to imagine him sleeping with a girl."

"Oh, you'd much rather imagine him sleeping with a boy?" Kirsten giggled.

"God, no," Devon cringed. "Kirsten, how could even say something like that?"

"Oh, relax, Devon, it's not that bad. Besides, Jonny wouldn't do that." Kirsten, growing tired of her brother's company, began to continue her path to her room. "Just you watch, one day he and I will be married, and it'll be his baby inside of me."

"Ugh, Kirsten, you're the one who's supposed to be throwing up all the time, not me." Kirsten just laughed, shook her head at Devon, and shut her door. Devon cringed once more at the thought of Jonathan and his sister before returning to his own room. Of course, he'd much rather Jonathan had gotten Kirsten pregnant than Chris. Jonathan was a least a very nice person.

A nice, peaceful person he was, and quiet, usually. But that particular night, he had a hard time remaining silent. Randall was being his usual self, abrasive and rash. He had opted to come straight home instead of driving to the bar after work, which perhaps is what made him on edge. Having felt like he and his mother had sort of patched things up, Jonathan was quite unsettled by his father's criticisms of Penny. He almost took offense to them as though they were aimed at him.

"Didn't I ask you last time not to put the cheese on top of the meat?" he said, glaring at Penny after he'd taken one bite of his cheeseburger and practically dropped it on his plate. "Is it so hard to put it on before the meat?"

"I'm sorry," Penny quietly replied. "Would you like me to fix it for you?"

"No, Penny, that would be a waste of time. I'll just eat it as it is."

"Are you sure? If it's going to be a problem, I'll just-"

"It's fine," Randall spat. "But next time, you can hopefully remember to do one goddamn thing right." Jonathan narrowed his eyes at his father, which did not go past Randall unnoticed. "You made any new friends yet?"

"No." For a second, Jonathan tested his father's patience, but he soon realized that was a bad idea. "But I haven't been hanging around Devon, either."

"Then what have you been doing? Sitting up in your room?"

"Yes."

"He did go to town one day," Penny chimed in. Jonathan shot a look at her; he wasn't expecting that she'd try to stick up for him. Also, he hoped he wouldn't have to think of a lie for what he did while he was in town. "Another day Kirsten came over, and we all had a nice chat."

"Kirsten, eh?" Randall turned to Jonathan and smiled. "Something going on between you two?"

"No." Jonathan, while actually trying to say as little as possible for fear of what might have come out of his mouth if he wasn't careful, was unintentionally pissing off Randall more and more by the minute. His short answers and blank expressions were coming off as more of a defiance than anything else.

"What is wrong with you?" Randall was looking at his son with such a look of disgust that Jonathan almost went teary-eyed. Never in his entire life had he felt so disliked. In fact, his father's tone was serious enough to actually convince Jonathan that there really was something wrong with him, that the way he was wasn't good enough.

"You should actually be glad for that, Randall, Kirsten's pregnant," Penny said. Jonathan lowered his head and stared at his plate. So, he didn't like to be around people all that much, was there really anything wrong with that?

"Oh, she is? Well, that certainly wouldn't have happened if she was with Jonathan. He probably wouldn't have even talked to her." It wasn't as though he didn't like girls, he just never really knew any aside from Kirsten. And he thought she was too young for him, and she was kinda annoying, too.

"Randall, Jonathan has his entire life to find someone. Will you just let him be?" Then again, she wasn't too young for Chris, but look how that turned out. He wouldn't have slept with her, of course, because he didn't really like her.

"No, I won't. You don't think it's weird that all he ever does is hang around in his room? God knows what he does up there." Chris didn't like her either, right? When he told Jonathan about their date, he didn't sound too thrilled.

"I do think he could be a bit more social, but... he's a shy boy, Randall. It's not his fault." Devon was the only person he really considered to be his friend, even though he sat with all those other boys almost everyday, even talked to some of them every now and then. Was that bad?

"Then whose fault is it, huh? His parents'?" He just didn't like people. They were always too pushy, and he felt like if he said the wrong thing, he'd be shunned for it. Which kinda reminded him of something.

"Maybe if you'd been around more rather than out drinking all the time, you could have raised me to be your perfect son." It took a good ten seconds for Jonathan to realize that those words had come from his mouth, that he wasn't just thinking them, and it wasn't someone else who'd said it. He, Jonathan, had thought it, and his body had taken the liberty to vocalize it for him. He was less than grateful, to say the least.

Randall took one look at Jonathan and stood up. "You know what? I don't need this right now." Randall shoved his chair into the table, and the banging sound echoed through the silent room. Penny and Jonathan were both too frightened to even make the tiniest bit of movement. Randall stormed off into the other room, and the sound of the door slamming shut shook the house. Within a few moments, the engine of Randall's car started, and soon enough he drove off into the night.

"I'm so sorry," Jonathan whispered when the sound of the car finally died away.

"No, Jonathan, it's all right. Your father's just tired. I'm sure he'll go for a quick drive, cool down, then come back and everything will be fine." Jonathan couldn't tell if she was just lying to him, or lying to herself. Either way, he knew she wasn't telling the truth.

"I shouldn't have said-"

"Jonathan, don't worry about it," Penny ordered in an unfitting, stern tone. "Please."

"All right." Jonathan looked down at his plate again, and thought about what his father had said. "Mum, there's nothing wrong with me, is there?"

"Of course not, sweetheart," Penny said, reaching her hand across the table and onto Jonathan's arm. "It may not always seem like it, but your father and I love you very much, and we think you're perfect just the way you are."

"Thanks." In a way, it did make him feel better. He knew the part about his father was probably a lie, but it did seem like his mother really cared about him. And he cared about her, too, because she was always so nice and always took care of him. It really sucked that he couldn't tell her anything, because she would have helped him so much.

Jonathan excused himself from the table and went up to his room. As he closed the door behind him, he noticed the lamp sitting next to him and picked it up. He carried it over to his table and set it down gently, but he didn't bother plugging it in.

It was too early to sleep, but Jonathan figured he'd try anyway. He had gotten maybe an hour's rest the night before, so he really needed to lay down. He could feel his eyes burning with exhaustion, but closing them just didn't feel right. So, he merely turned on his side and stared at his blank wall, waiting for the moment when he'd suddenly drift off.

It felt like he was staring at that wall for hours, even though he knew it was probably just a few minutes. There was absolutely nothing there, like a blank canvas just waiting to be smothered with creation. It was almost like an open invitation to escape this world and start a new one. One where everything was perfect. In fact, as Jonathan stared at the wall and thought of his ideal life, it lulled him to sleep so subtly that he didn't even realize he was dreaming.


	6. Chapter 6

When Jonathan woke up, everything seemed normal. The lamp was now on his bedside table, the cord dangling off the side and nearly touching his arm. He grabbed it and shoved the plug into the outlet just behind the table, even though he didn't intend on using the lamp. He just figured it would be easier to plug it in now, while he was right there.

The sun was peeking in through the curtains, and Jonathan guessed that he'd gotten at least ten hours of sleep. Which was very good, because he no longer felt tired. He still stretched and yawned as he hopped out of bed, though, because that's just what he always did.

He quietly stepped downstairs and walked past the living room. He stopped and walked back a few steps, and noticed that both of his parents were in there, watching TV.

"Morning, Jonathan," Randall said. For someone who had stormed off in a fit of rage the night before, Randall was surprisingly chipper this morning. "Sleep well?"

"Uh, yeah," Jonathan lamely replied.

"Oh, sweetheart," Penny said to Jonathan, "Chris is going to be here in a few minutes, I suggest you get yourself ready."

Jonathan froze. Chris? Why would Chris be coming over, and why would Penny sound like this was nothing out of the ordinary?

"Chris is coming over?" Jonathan repeated in shock. Penny nodded and returned her attention to the television set.

"Jonathan, don't you remember? We asked him to visit so we could meet him," Randall said, furrowing his eyebrows. "Are you feeling OK?"

"Yeah, I feel fine... I guess I'm just still a little sleepy." Jonathan shook his head. This wasn't right. He tried to understand what was going on, but his thoughts were interrupted by the door.

"Good morning, Jay," Chris smiled as Jonathan opened the door. "...Jay?"

Jonathan was staring, quite wide-eyed, at the jaw-dropping sight before him. It was Chris, all right, there, at his house, but he looked different. His hair wasn't curly and all over the place, it was short and well-kept. He was also wearing black-rimmed glasses, which, rather than hiding his piercing blue eyes, intensified their hypnotizing power. His torso was decked out in some random band t-shirt, which made Jonathan realize that he'd never seen Chris wearing anything apart from their school uniform. He still wore the same charcoal pants as he always did, but his dress shoes had been replaced with worn-out trainers. Despite this odd combination of clothing and accessories, Jonathan still thought Chris looked absolutely stunning.

"Hi," Jonathan finally said. He stood for a moment longer, then shook himself back to reality. "Uh, come on in."

Chris smiled as he entered the threshold. He looked all around- at the walls, at the ceiling, at the floors, even at the coat rack beside the door. "This is a really nice house."

"Why thank you," Penny said as she rushed in to greet Chris. "We've worked very hard to make this a nice home for Jonathan." She put her arm around Jonathan and pinched his cheek, which he thought was very odd. "Our little boy deserves only the best."

"He certainly does," Chris agreed and smiled lovingly at Jonathan.

"Oh, Penny, you're embarrassing him!" Randall laughed as he walked up next to Jonathan. "Besides, he's not a boy, he's almost a man."

"He still has a few years left before that. We wouldn't want Jonathan to grow up too fast, would we?"

"I suppose not. In any case," Randall turned to Chris and spoke, "Welcome, Chris, it's nice to finally meet you."

Randall held out his hand, and Chris graciously shook it. "It's nice to meet you guys, too. Jonathan talks about you all the time. He's always telling me he has the greatest parents. It actually makes me a little jealous sometimes."

"Jealous, really? But isn't your dad the mayor of that one town?" Randall inquired, and Chris nodded.

"Yeah, but that seems like nothing compared to what I've been told about you guys."

"Well, Jonathan has certainly said some very nice things about you, too," Penny said. "It seems like every other word that comes out of his mouth is 'Chris'."

"Is it really?" Chris asked Jonathan, lightly blushing. "You're too kind, Jonathan, no wonder everyone loves you."

"Do you love him?" Jonathan looked up at his father in surprise. It definitely wasn't something he'd expected Randall to ask, and he held his breath as he waited for Chris's reply.

"Yes." Chris blushed even deeper, and lowered his head a little to hide his smile.

"Wonderful! Shall we sit down then?" Randall gestured to the living room, and the group migrated. Jonathan began to take a seat in one of the armchairs, but Randall insisted that he and Chris take the couch. "Those are some mighty fine glasses, Chris," Randall began.

Chris chuckled and said, "Thank you. I think they make me look ridiculous, but Jay told me they look nice."

"They do," Jonathan said without thinking. Chris looked at him and smiled.

"Well, I agree with Jonathan," Penny kindly said. "You look very handsome, Chris."

"Oh, you're all much too kind," Chris replied. "Really, I think they make me look like Urkle."

"Urkle's glasses were a lot bigger," Jonathan laughed. Chris playfully shoved Jonathan's arm and Jonathan crinkled his nose at Chris. He was surprised at how relaxed he felt. It was very strange not having to hide his feelings, but it was certainly wonderful.

The four chatted for hours, and Jonathan was greatly relieved to find that his parents really liked Chris. Unfortunately, the time came when Chris had to return home, even though it seemed like he'd only been there for a few minutes.

"Well, Chris," Randall said as he walked Chris to the door, "it's good to know that our son has chosen such a lovely boy. And thank you for coming to see us."

"Oh, thank you for having me," Chris said. "I had a great time."

"You're welcome to drop by any time you like," Randall smiled, and he motioned for Jonathan, who was being held up by Penny, to join them. "Jonathan, come over here and say goodbye." Jonathan held his hand up to his mother to tell her to pause for a moment, and he ran over to Chris.

"Bye, Chris," Jonathan said as he wrapped his arms around Chris. Chris did the same, and he kissed Jonathan on the cheek.

"Bye, Jay." Jonathan felt a surge of bravery course through him, though, and as he pulled back a little, he kissed Chris full on the lips. Chris was a little taken aback, but he smiled as he looked into Jonathan's eyes before he left. Jonathan watched him walk away, and his heart raced with excitement. He was a bit sad as he closed the door, though, and turned back to his father.

"Jonathan," Randall said, "Chris is such a great boy." He took a step and placed his hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, son."

Then Randall did something totally unexpected. He hugged Jonathan. Jonathan was almost completely unsure of what to do, but after a second of pure shock, he returned what he realized was the first hug he could ever remember receiving from his father. They stood like that for several moments, until suddenly there was a huge bang that shook the house. Jonathan thought it could have been an earthquake or something, but the second bang made him realize what was actually happening.

Jonathan opened his eyes to see his father standing at his door, his composure lacking in balance.

"You know, you should really keep your door where people aren't going to walk into it," Randall slurred, and Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"OK, dad," Jonathan replied, looking over at his alarm clock. The glowing red numbers said it was a quarter past one in the morning.

Well, at least Randall made it home all right.


	7. Chapter 7

Chester, for some reason, took a keen interest in Jonathan Monday morning. He kept pestering Jonathan about what he and Devon had spoken to Chris about.

Only a few minutes earlier, Devon had dragged Jonathan with him up to the group of popular boys. A few of the boys stepped back in fear as they passed, but Devon was a thousand times more peaceful than he had been the last time.

"Chris, can I speak with you?" Devon disgustedly asked. Chris too looked up at him slightly frightened, but he agreed when he saw that Jonathan was with Devon. Devon didn't say another word, but he walked away and over to an empty spot in the schoolyard, and Jonathan and Chris tentatively followed him.

"What is it?" Chris asked when Devon had stopped and turned around.

"My sister asked that I tell you she doesn't want you to be a part of the whole baby thing." Devon sighed, glanced at Jonathan, then reluctantly said, "And I'm sorry for hitting you. It was out of line."

Chris ignored Devon's apology and asked, "She doesn't?"

"Right."

"Oh." Chris sounded rather disappointed, though there was also a hint of relief in his voice. "Well, thank you for letting me know. And, Devon, you should know that I deeply regret what I did."

"Of course you do," Devon sneered. Chris winced as he looked at Devon and remembered that night with Kirsten, and that lovely interaction he and Devon had before. Devon couldn't hold in his contempt for much longer, so he silently walked off. Jonathan thought it would be a good idea to leave with him, but just before he did, he stole a look at Chris, who quickly flashed him a smile.

As Jonathan and Devon walked up to the door, Chester walked up to them. He came out of nowhere, it seemed, but as soon as they had walked away from Christopher, he had rushed over to them.

"What was that all about?" Chester asked Jonathan. Jonathan tried to ignore him, but Chester merely pressed on.

"It's not any of your business, OK?" Jonathan finally answered. "Devon was the one talking to him, anyway."

"Why was Devon talking to him?"

"It's not any of your business," Jonathan firmly repeated. He stopped at his locker, and Chester stopped with him. "Look, if you really want an answer, go ask Devon. But he's not going to tell you, either."

"Whatever, I just think it's strange that people like you would be talking to someone like him," Chester mused, narrowing his eyes. "But if there's something going on, I will find out about it."

"Why do you care, anyway?" Jonathan asked as he nearly slammed his locker shut. Chester looked at him and shrugged as he began to walk away.

"I just like knowing things."

Jonathan shook his head in confusion, then left for homeroom. He went through the rest of the day dodging accusing stares from Chester in the few classes they shared. He could not for the life of him figure out why Chester was so interested in their discussion. It's not like they'd even been talking for that long. Even Devon noticed Chester's odd behavior, and he asked Jonathan about it while they sat in lunch, though Jonathan wasn't much help.

"Why is he staring over here?" Devon asked Jonathan. Jonathan set down the sandwich he was holding and swallowed before he answered.

"Who?" Devon nodded his head in Chester's direction, and Jonathan looked as quickly as he could. "Oh. He's really... nosy, or something."

"He's nosy?" Devon dumbly repeated.

"He wanted to know why you were talking to Chris earlier."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him it wasn't any of his business," Jonathan replied, picking up his sandwich again. "'Cause it's not. But he won't stop, for some reason."

"It's kinda freaking me out," Devon said, and Jonathan nodded. Chester was being incredibly weird, and even when he wasn't around, Jonathan felt his eyes staring, piercing through him to find some deep secret.

That's why Jonathan was a little apprehensive to meet up with Chris after school. He still went, of course, because he really needed to see Chris. He waited longer than he usually would have before he left, though. When he finally did walk into the small alley, Chris looked up at him and smiled widely.

"Jon!" Chris exclaimed, practically yanking Jonathan towards him. "For a minute there I thought you weren't going to show up."

"No, I just waited a little longer today." Chris squished his eyebrows together.

"Why, is there something wrong?"

"Uh, no, it was just- well, just to be safe." Chris smiled in relief and wrapped his arms around Jonathan as he pulled him in for a kiss. Jonathan basked in the taste of Chris, something he realized he hadn't experienced in a while.

"Jon," Chris said in between kisses, "we really... don't see each other... often enough." Jonathan let out a grunt as a reply; he would have given a proper response if he hadn't been trying to get as much of Chris as he could. They both got a little carried away, and Jonathan ended up being pushed up against the side of the school while Chris ran his hands down Jonathan's chest. They were so wrapped up in each other that they missed the faint sound of footsteps. It wasn't until someone loudly cleared their throat that they stopped.

Chris and Jonathan both froze, and Chris took a step back. "Shit."

"I told you I'd find out," Chester smugly said. He folded his arms across his chest and stuck his nose up in the air. "Never expected anything like this, though."

"Chester, you didn't see anything," Jonathan said. Chris looked over at him, a bit confused.

"Oh, really? Because I could have sworn that you two were-"

"You didn't see anything," Jonathan reinforced. Chris was fidgeting nervously, and Chester laughed.

"Right, I didn't see anything. So, I'm sure your father wouldn't care about what I didn't see?"

"No, please," Chris pleaded, "don't. Don't do this."

Chester looked at Chris and tilted his head. "Why shouldn't I? What's in it for me?"

"Nothing's in it for you," Jonathan told him. "It's not like there's anything in it for you if you tell, either."

"Au contraire, Jonathan." Chester began to walk in circles around Chris and Jonathan. "You see, if I tell your father... Randall, is it? If I tell him, well, then I get the satisfaction of knowing that you will be completely destroyed." Chester stopped inches away from Jonathan and looked him square in the eye. "And that would make my life."

Jonathan said nothing, stared at Chester with flaring nostrils as Chester laughed evilly then walked off. Chris watched Chester leave, then turned to Jonathan.

"Jon, you have to go, you have to stop him," Chris panicked. "If he tells your dad, I- we...."

"Yeah." Jonathan leaned forward to kiss Chris, then bolted off to his mother's car. When he threw open the car door, Penny was a bit taken aback.

"Jonathan, are you all right?" Jonathan looked at his mother, and tried to calm himself down. It was an immensely difficult task.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just... tired. Can we go home now?" Penny held her gaze on Jonathan for a few moments, daring to believe him, then went on and started the car. Jonathan watched out the window as the world went whizzing past them. All he could think about Chester and his evil laugh. He didn't really know much about Chester, so he couldn't be sure that Chester was serious. Then again, Chester did seem to hate Jonathan dearly, and Jonathan hated him, too.

Randall wouldn't be home for a while, though, especially not if he decided to go drinking after work. For once, Jonathan was actually a tad bit glad that his father was an alcoholic. There was also the possibility that Chester would come to his house and just tell his mother instead, which was equally frightening. Maybe Penny wouldn't be so harsh about it, though, and maybe she'd agree not to tell Randall.

Chester would probably realize that Randall wasn't informed if nothing ever happened to Jonathan, though. Then he could just go back and tell Randall himself, and Randall would find out that along with Jonathan, Penny was keeping it from him, and that would just exacerbate things to no end. And, if Randall came home drunk and Chester told him, then Randall might react even worse than he normally would.

All of this was way too much thought to cram into a short five minute period, and when Jonathan got out of the car he was feeling a little lightheaded. Instead of taking his usual walk up to his room, he collapsed in one of the kitchen chairs. Penny walked by him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Jonathan, are you sure you're OK? Why don't you lay down?"

"No, mum, I'm fine." Laying down wouldn't help him, especially because he felt like if he was in the kitchen and there was a knock on the door, he would be able to answer it first, so that if it really was Chester, he could just somehow make the whole problem go away. Slam the door in his face or something. Sure, there was no guarantee that Chester wouldn't come back at another time, but at least Jonathan would be safe for a little while. Going upstairs to his room would not help at all.

Jonathan sat at that table for two solid hours before he decided that he needed to get out of the house for a bit. He left without saying anything to his mother, but he figured that she'd realize he'd gone for a walk. He did worry that maybe Chester would show up while he was gone, but then he remembered that he'd be able to see any cars passing by in the direction of his house, or he'd be able to see Chester walking down the street. He wasn't sure where Chester lived, so he didn't know how he'd be traveling; either way, though, he would be able to prepare himself to either stop Chester or convince his parents that Chester was lying.

He didn't run into Chester in any form while he was walking, but he did run into Devon. It wasn't a great surprise, as Jonathan had walked past Devon's house, but he wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone, not even his best friend.

"Jon?" Devon called as Jonathan ignored his first greeting and merely walked by. "Jonathan, what's going on?" Jonathan continued to ignore Devon, which he found to be difficult after he noticed that Devon was chasing after him. He kept his pace, though, and tried to keep his thoughts in order. "Jonathan!"

"Leave me alone, Devon," Jonathan yelled as he spun around. Devon was only a few feet behind him, and he stopped walking almost immediately.

"Just tell me what's wrong! We're best friends, right? I can help you out."

"No, Devon, you can't," Jonathan said, and just before he turned back he added, "Goodbye."

Devon sighed in frustration, but he heeded Jonathan's command and went back to his house. Jonathan continued his walk until the sun began to set, at which time he begrudgingly and anxiously returned home.

He hadn't expected for there to be a car other than his mother's in the driveway when he arrived. When he saw the car from far away, he began to panic and his heart raced like crazy. The closer he got, though, and the more carefully he looked at the car through the growing darkness, the more he saw that there was no way it was Chester. He was still worried, though; why would they be at his house?

He ran up to his front door and burst inside. The person speaking to his mother was an older woman dressed in a police uniform. His mother seemed to be unharmed, but her face was gaunt and suddenly what the police woman was saying entered into Jonathan's ears.

"There was another car involved. The driver was also male, a teenager. The EMTs tried their best to save them, but it was no good. They were both gone before we even arrived." Penny began to sob, and the other woman put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, ma'am." She looked over at Jonathan, back to Penny, then sighed and began to walk away. "Take good care of your mother, all right?" she said to Jonathan as she left. Jonathan stood still and watched his mother as he heard the door closing behind him.

"Mum?" Penny turned to Jonathan, and through her tears found her way to her son. She buried her head in his shoulder and continued her weeping for a few minutes. Eventually, she quieted down enough to speak.

"Jonathan, your father..." She looked as though she would start to cry again any second, and she did as she said, "It was never a good idea for him to start drinking again." Jonathan held on to his mother as she returned to her sobbing and he realized what had happened.

According to the police reports, Randall's blood-alcohol level was way over the legal limit when the crash happened. It could be assumed that his intoxication is what lead to the accident, and it kind of was: Randall had suffered a heart attack, something that was not unheard of among older men, and the alcohol only increased his risk. Technically, the heart attack was the cause of the crash, but as the alcohol was the cause of the heart attack, it was suffice to say that the crash was the result of drunk driving.

The other driver, the teenage boy, was, oddly enough, headed in the direction of Jonathan's house. How fitting that Chester was killed by the very same man he was driving to see. Jonathan had no idea how to react to any of this news: relief, because now his secret would be safe, and there was hardly anyone to hear it, anyway; shock, because it was weird to think that someone who was just alive, and who he'd just talked to earlier could be completely gone from the planet, never to be seen again; and, of course, sadness, because, well, his father just died. As much as Jonathan hated Randall, he was still his father.

The next day, a double memorial was held in honor of the deceased. Chester's parents and siblings were there along with Jonathan and Penny, and the two families were trying to talk through their pain with each other. Penny was talking to Chester's family, anyway, but Jonathan was just standing, staring off into space, and absentmindedly speaking to the other boys who walked up to him.

"Jonathan." The voice pulled him back to reality, if not just momentarily. Chris was standing in front of him, looking miserably sympathetic. It almost hurt more to see Chris so sad for Jonathan. "My condolences."

"Thank you." The two boys just stared at each other in silence for a few moments, then Chris lifted his hand to his heart and mouthed, "I love you," before he walked away and some other boy walked up to Jonathan.

After Chris walked away, he sat down in an empty seat, one of the many chairs that filled the hall. He recklessly watched Jonathan, not caring whether or not anyone caught him staring. It really hurt him to see Jonathan so upset. Jonathan needed him, but there was nothing he could do. What made things even worse was that Chris's parents had set him up with another date. This time, he'd be going to some sort of fancy ball rather than just out to dinner, but he still didn't want to. Unlike Jonathan, Chris had yet to realize that one day they would have to split. He was utterly convinced that he and Jonathan would be together until they one of them stopped loving the other, which would hopefully be never.

Against his better judgment, Chris decided not to tell Jonathan about the date the next time they spoke. It was a few days after the memorial, and Chris was set to attend the ball the next evening. Jonathan was set to attend his father's funeral.

"It's weird," Jonathan said. He and Chris were sitting in the small alleyway, even though they had both agreed from then on to meet in much more private places. "He was never really around much... or I wasn't really around him a lot, but now that I know he'll never be there again... it's just weird."

"I remember when my pet goldfish died," Chris said. "It's hardly the same, I know, but it was definitely tough. I was only five, so it was the first time I ever dealt with death."

"What happened?"

"Well, I had the goldfish for a couple of months. I always talked to it like it was my best friend," Chris was smiling, but it soon faded. "One day, I woke up, and he didn't."

Jonathan looked peacefully at Chris. "Was he your best friend?"

"I... guess he kinda was. I told him lots of things I'd have never told anyone." Chris stared hard at the ground, almost as if he was haunted by his revelations. "I shouldn't be bothering you with that."

"It's all right," Jonathan said, resting his head on Chris's shoulder. "You can bother me with anything, hearing your voice helps."

"Of course," Chris replied, and he brought his arm around Jonathan. "What would you like me to bother you with, then?"

"Tell me more about your fish," Jonathan quietly demanded. "What was his name?"

"I think his name was Goldie," Chris laughed. "I was quite an imaginative child."

Jonathan laughed along. "Where did you get him?"

"My older brother won him from some carnival game. It was actually rather surprising that he lasted as long as he did. But I guess my brother didn't want him or something, so I ended up taking him."

"Well, that was very kind of you," Jonathan said, slightly sarcastic.

"Man, I loved that fish. I really think he was my best friend... back then."

"What sort of things did you tell him about?"

Chris thought for a moment. "Uh, mostly little kid stuff, like if some girl fancied me, I'd tell him about it, and complain that girls have cooties. Normal five-year-old boy things, I guess."

"Ah, cooties. Those were the days, weren't they?" Jonathan laughed.

"Yeah," Chris smiled. "Kids come up with the craziest things." The two boys were quite silent for a bit, and Chris looked down at Jonathan. "I'm glad you don't have cooties," he laughed. Jonathan sat up and looked at Chris.

"As am I. Otherwise, it would be really gross if I did this." Jonathan leaned forward, but instead of kissing Chris like Chris thought he was going to do, Jonathan licked Chris's cheek.

"Ah, that's still gross!" Chris exclaimed, wiping off his cheek, but laughing the whole time.

"I suppose it is. Here," Jonathan turned his head to the side, "you can lick me, if you like."

"Why, Jonathan, isn't that a little inappropriate?" Chris seductively asked. Jonathan playfully shoved Chris's arm, which reminded him of something.

"Oh! I had a dream about you the other night-"

"Still being inappropriate, are we?" Chris briefly interrupted, but Jonathan continued without a pause.

"-and you were very different."

Chris tilted his head to the side. "How so?"

"You didn't have so much hair," Jonathan replied, tapping Chris's mop of curliness. "And you were wearing glasses."

"Glasses? Wow. I can't imagine that I'd look right with glasses."

"No, you looked magnificent," Jonathan reassured Chris. "And you met my parents. They loved you." Jonathan went silent, scrunched his eyebrows together as he remembered that his father had been in that dream. But it wasn't really his father, it was who he wanted his father to be. Now his father wouldn't be anything.

"Jonathan, I hate to disappoint you, but I think I should be heading home." Jonathan looked up at Chris and nodded. "Well, isn't your mother waiting for you, anyway?"

"No, she's... well, she has a sort of aversion to cars now. I've been walking back and forth between home and school for the past couple of days."

"Seriously? Isn't that awful?" Chris asked, and Jonathan shrugged.

"It's not so bad," he replied.

"I wish I could walk you home," Chris said, brushing Jonathan's cheek. "I wish I could do a lot of things with you."

"Inappropriate," Jonathan muttered, and Chris smiled.

"I love you so very much, Jonathan." Jonathan smiled and placed his hand on top of Chris's.

"I love you, too." Chris nodded and stood up, and Jonathan soon followed.

"Do you remember that building I brought you to? I think we should go there from now on."

"OK," Jonathan said. Chris stepped forward and tightly embraced Jonathan.

"Goodbye, Jonathan," Chris whispered in Jonathan's ear. "Wherever the future brings us, we'll still be there together. Just remember that."

Jonathan held on to Chris for as long as he could, and when Chris finally had to leave, he clung to Chris's words instead. They rang in his head and echoed through every bit of his brain like some catchy pop song, except these words were much more tolerable. And, Jonathan thought, they were much more heartfelt.

Jonathan found a rock to kick on his way home, and he entertained himself by watching it roll spastically down the sidewalk. He realized that after each kick, the rock would bounce differently, and for different periods of time. But no matter what, Jonathan always ended catching up with it.

Chris was right. They'd already been through some rough times, what with Kirsten being pregnant, and Chester finding them together. Each time they made it through just fine. Surely, they'd be able to get past whatever else was in store for them.

Of course, Jonathan didn't realize that Chris's statement had just been his way of letting Jonathan know that he was probably going to be doing more than he'd like with his date the next night.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was elegantly decorated, with its crystal chandeliers and deep purple draperies. The lights were dim enough to create a relaxing atmosphere without affecting anyone's eyesight. Several long, white-clothed tables lined the wall in the back, on top of which sat a large variety of hors d'oeuvres and beverages.

Its occupants were equally elegant, dolled up in the blackest of tuxedos and the bluest of long, flowing dresses. Most of the attendees were adults, but there were plenty of young couples who had been dragged along by their parents. If anyone had been asked the occasion for which the ball was being held, there would not have been any certain reply. The invitations merely said Friday night, 8 P.M. at the Helsby residence.

So there they all were, 8 P.M. at the Helsby residence, fancily dressed and socializing with people they hardly knew. Mrs. Helsby and her eldest daughter Marina were greeting the arriving guests at the door. Mr. Helsby was somewhere on the floor, chatting up the guests and showing off the expensive chandeliers he had imported all the way from France. By his side was Mason, the eldest Helsby boy, Marina's twin brother, and a dear friend of Chris's. Well, Chris couldn't actually stand him, but as their families went back as far as anyone could remember, and the boys were the same age, they were practically forced to be friends.

Despite the girl hanging on Chris's arm, Marina lavishly greeted him with a wide smile and a wink. He nervously chuckled at her and bowed his head, which she seemed to think was the most wonderful thing ever. Chris brought his date, whose name was Emilia, over to one of the tables in the back, hoping that he could have as little interaction as possible with the other people in the room.

"This place sure is big," Emilia said in her thick accent. She was originally from Italy, but her family had moved to England a few years earlier, and had established themselves as quite elite.

"Yeah," Chris simply replied. He hated having to go out on all of these dates that his parents arranged. The girls they picked were never bad- Emilia was actually rather beautiful- but he felt that events like these were just a waste of time. He knew he wasn't going to like any of the girls his parents chose, no matter how nice they looked.

"I really like the chandeliers," Emilia mused, and it seemed that Mr. Helsby had sonic hearing. Within a second he swooped in, and began to tell Emilia all about the crystal structures. Chris took this time to desperately wish that he were somewhere else. Anywhere else would do. He'd even rather be in school. At least there he'd be able to see Jonathan every now and then.

"Hi, Chris!" a squeaky little voice chirped. Chris looked down to see the youngest Helsby child, five-year-old Abigail, tugging gently at his sleeve. Chris smiled at her and bent down.

"Hey, Abby," he said. "What's new?" Abigail smiled wide to show Chris a gap between her front teeth. Chris amused her, opening his mouth in mock shock. "Wow, you lost a tooth?"

"Uh huh," Abigail beamed. Then she took her index finger and began to wiggle one of the teeth next to the gap. "An' look, thith one ith looth, too."

"Oh, man, soon you're not gonna have any at all. Then you'll have to eat out of a straw or something."

"No, they'll grow back!" Abigail explained, and Chris let out an exaggerated, "Oh."

"Well, then I guess you're fine to eat solids," Chris said. Abigail giggled, and Chris laughed back and ruffled her hair before she ran off and he stood up. Mr. Helsby was still droning on about the chandeliers, and Emilia, while acting totally engaged in the conversation, was actually wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.

"And one of them almost broke, because those clumsy construction men are just that. Terrifically clumsy," Mr. Helsby said. "Luckily, it didn't and- Oh!" Mr. Helsby spotted someone who was apparently of more value than Emilia. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I must be off to greet Mrs. Aldenglass. She's a widow now, you know. Sad stuff. I promise I'll return later, and we can continue our talk."

Emilia smiled in agreement and Mr. Helsby bustled off to a rather stout, stubby woman walking through the door. When she was sure he was out of earshot, she leaned over to Chris and whispered, "Can we make sure to leave before that point?"

"Definitely," Chris replied. He sighed as a silence struck between them and stared at the ground, as he didn't have much else to do. Emilia took a long look at him, twisting her face in all sorts of pensive shapes.

"Chris, should we dance or something?" Emilia asked. Chris looked up at her. She really was a pretty girl.

"Um, I suppose we could," he replied, and held out his arm to her. She gracefully grabbed his arm with both of hers, and they began to walk onto the dance floor. The music was unsurprisingly slow, and Chris dreaded the thought of having to slow dance with Emilia. He was never really much of a dancer.

Emilia gently placed her hands on Chris's shoulders, and in turn Chris placed his hands on her hips. It wasn't actually so bad, but Chris just didn't want to be there. He wanted to be at home.

"Your hair looks very nice, Emilia," Chris said. Emilia kindly smiled and self-consciously touched a hand to her dark brown curls.

"Thank you," she replied, and returned her hand back to Chris's shoulder. "It's actually a mess most of the time, but my mother helped me with it for tonight."

"Well, she did a good job." Emilia blushed a little, and Chris noticed the way her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room.

"So, Chris, are your parents here tonight?"

"Uh, they should be around here somewhere," Chris said, scanning the crowd of people. "I'm not sure where, though. Are yours?"

"Unfortunately, they could not make it. My father has, like, the flu or something."

"Oh, that's awful," Chris said, slightly wincing. "I had the flu once, I think I was in bed for a week."

"I've never had the flu before, I have been very lucky. It does look awful, though." Emilia's eyes sparkled at Chris, and her thin lips curved into a little smile. "Your eyes are so blue."

"People tell me that all the time," Chris nodded. "They're always saying how blue they are, and how they wished they had eyes as nice as mine."

"If I had blue eyes, I would want them to be like yours, for certain," Emilia simpered. With no imminent reply from Chris, Emilia looked down and scrunched her nose. When she looked back up at Chris, her eyes were filled with despair. "I don't think this dancing thing is working out very well, I'm not a good dancer."

"You're a thousand times better than I am, at least," Chris laughed, "but if you want, we can stop."

"I like talking to you, though," Emilia continued. "Perhaps the dance floor just isn't the place." Emilia took her hands off of Chris, and she waited for him to lead the way to the side of the room. For some reason, Chris was both relieved and disappointed as he walked away from the other dancers. "So, tell me, Chris, do you have a lot of girls throwing themselves at you?" Emilia asked as they stopped by the wall.

"I... maybe? Well, my parents seem to set me up with a lot of girls," Chris replied, and he started getting nervous. Why was he getting nervous? There was this weird sinking feeling in his stomach, too. "They do seem to like me a lot."

"I can understand that," Emilia said, and she placed her hand on Chris's arm. "You're a very nice boy. And you're pretty cute, too."

"Yeah," Chris affirmed. His mouth was getting dry, and he desperately needed a drink. Something kept him glued to his spot, though. Emilia was looking at him with the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen, and it seemed like there was some affection shining through them. She hesitated for only a moment, then slowly she leaned closer and closer. Chris knew what was coming, of course, and he allowed it to happen not because he wanted to kiss her, he needed to kiss her.

But when their lips finally met, there was no more connection between them. It was all right, both parties agreed, but there wasn't any spark like they'd hoped. Chris wasn't all too surprised, but he could tell that Emilia was a little disappointed. She tried to act like she'd felt something, though, so she continued to flirt with Chris until they were interrupted by a tall, fair-haired boy.

"Chris, could I speak with you for a moment?" Mason asked, a glass of champagne resting expertly in between his fingers. Chris held in his disgust and agreed, following Mason about ten steps away from where he was previously standing.

"Listen, that girl you're with," Mason began, "uh... what's her name?"

"Emilia."

"Emilia, lovely," Mason mused, and he stole a glance at Emilia. "Listen, I've been watching you two, and you seem to be having a great time," he added with a hint of sarcasm, "but I was thinking that maybe you'd be better off with someone else? Someone like, say, Marina?"

"Did she ask you to come over here?" Chris dozily asked. Mason looked at Chris and scoffed.

"No, of course not. Actually, if you must know, I came over here to steal your date. No offense, she doesn't look like she's having that great a time."

"And she'd like you better?" Chris asked, and Mason smugly smiled. "Of course. So, you want me to go entertain your sister while you go do... whatever with Emilia?"

"Oh, Chris, entertain sounds so harsh." Mason sophisticatedly took a tiny sip of his champagne. "No, I think you'd really like her, if you got to know her. She's always had a thing for you, you know."

"Yes, Mason, I know," Chris replied. "That doesn't mean I have a thing for her."

"But you could! And if you never try," Mason lifted a finger to Chris and shoved it in his face, "you never know."

"Fine," Chris sighed. "But only because... I think you're right about Emilia. She doesn't really seem that interested."

Mason smiled and took another sip of his drink. "Excellent. Marina's over there," he nodded in some vague direction. "She should be glad to be in your company." Before either of them could say another word, Mason bolted off to where Emilia was waiting. Chris watched for a few minutes, laughing at how ridiculous Mason looked while he was trying to charm Emilia, then went off himself to find Marina.

"No, Mrs. Aldenglass, that wasn't me," Marina said. Mrs. Aldenglass was standing beside her, though she was so short that at first Chris didn't see her.

"You're absolutely certain?" Mrs. Aldenglass asked. "I could have sworn-"

"I'm pretty sure, Mrs. Aldenglass." Mrs. Aldenglass paused for a moment, thinking hard. Now that he was closer, Chris realized that Mrs. Aldenglass must have been at least seventy years old.

"Oh, maybe I dreamed it," Mrs. Aldenglass reflected. Chris couldn't help laughing at the poor old woman, which caused Marina to look up.

"Oh! Hi, Chris," she smiled. "What are you doing over here?"

"Your brother stole my date," Chris replied, casually shoving his hands in his pockets. "So I came to talk to you instead."

"Oh," Marina swooned. "Well, that was very kind of you. And not so kind of him."

"Well, Mason will be Mason," Chris shrugged. Marina laughed, and then she turned to Mrs. Aldenglass.

"Listen, Mrs. Aldenglass, it was nice to see you again, but I've got to go speak with some of the other guests." Marina glanced back at Chris and gave him a knowing look.

"Oh, all right, sweetie," Mrs. Aldenglass said, reaching her hand to Marina's arm, because that was about as far as she could reach. "It was nice to see you."

"It was nice to see you, too, Mrs. Aldenglass," Marina graciously replied, before turning to Chris and whispering, "Let's get out of here." Chris laughed and nodded, and before he knew it they were outside on the balcony. It was cool outside, but not too cool. Of course, Chris was wearing a suit, so he had plenty of layers on. It was dark out, obviously, and that night there was a full moon.

Marina and Chris were silent for a while, both lost in their thoughts. Marina was trying to contain her urge to jump on Chris, and Chris was trying to contain his urge to jump off the balcony. Eventually, after what seemed like the longest passing of time, Chris spoke.

"I wonder what would happen if my parents found out that I traded Emilia for you," Chris pondered. Marina smiled a little at the thought of Chris willingly coming to see her.

"They might not be so pleased," Marina said, "but at least you were with one of the hosts of the party."

"That's true," Chris agreed, looking over at Marina. Like her brother, she was also fair-haired, and with a rather pale complexion. In the darkness, even with the shine of the moon, she looked even more colorless. It gave her a strange sort of glow, though.

"Chris, you know that I like you, don't you?" Marina asked, not daring to catch Chris's gaze.

"Yeah," he simply replied. Marina looked around for an easier way to say what she wanted, but came up shorthanded in the end.

"Do you like me?" Marina turned to Chris, a worried expression covering her pale face.

"Listen, Marina, you're a nice girl, but..." Chris tried to break it to her as gently as he could, but the look on her face showed that she already knew what the answer was, so he just said, "No."

"I figured as much," she said. "Do you think you could ever like me?"

"Maybe." Chris couldn't figure out why he was lying to himself and to Marina. There was just something inside of him that needed to think he could one day like her. She really was a nice girl, and she was pretty easy on the eyes. Suddenly, the thing inside of him decided to take control, mostly over his vocal chords. "Kiss me."

"What?" Marina was looking at him with big eyes and confusion. Chris didn't really know what he was doing, but his body pushed him closer to Marina.

"Kiss me," he repeated. Then, quite suddenly, Marina's face was less than an inch away from his, and just before their lips touched, Jonathan flashed before Chris's eyes, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop Marina, and he couldn't stop himself. But his mind kept going back to Jonathan, kept comparing, and Marina was falling sadly short.

As he pulled away, he felt a bitter stab pierce through him. He always knew what the answer was, but he didn't want to face it. Marina was such a lovely girl. Chris silently groaned as he prepared himself to reject her, but he was surprised to find that Marina already had that in mind.

"Uh, I have to go," Marina said, looking rather uncomfortable and, oddly enough, a bit sick. She quickly walked back into the room with all of the partygoers, leaving Chris to stare blankly in the dark. He was confused, to say the least; Marina had liked him for as long as he could remember, why would she act like this? Then again, he had never liked her, but that hadn't stopped him from acting differently.

He tried to shake it off and went back inside, but a run-in with his father did nothing to help his racing mind.

"Chris, where's Emilia?" his father asked. Chris looked up at him, a bit distorted, and tried to come up with a clever answer.

"She, uh... she... uh..." Chris's brain completely failed him; his mind was too clouded by the preceding events and their all too burdening result. The room was starting to get much darker, even though the lights hadn't been dimmed any further, and Chris's breath grew thick and messy. "Can we go home?"

"Yeah, Chris, are you feeling OK?" His father looked him in the eye and placed a hand on his shoulder, so Chris could only guess that he was swaying a bit. "It's not anything with your..." he made a gesture circling his abdomen while he searched for the word, "uh, spleen, is it?"

"No, no," Chris replied. "I think I'm just a little... tired, or something. Maybe I didn't get enough sleep."

"All right, well, you don't look too good. I suppose it's not really a good idea for us to keep you out if you're not feeling well. I'll go find your mother, just wait here." Chris nodded, and his father quickly went off to find his mother. He did so within a matter of minutes, and Chris's mother worriedly put her arm around her son as they walked out of the Helsby mansion.

Once Chris was sitting in the car, he felt a little better. At least he could rest his head against the window, so that if he did pass out, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. He didn't pass out, though; it was as if his brain was intent on keeping him conscious, keeping him agonizing over this night. He knew what he did, and he knew he shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have done it, because in the end, he always knew the answer.


	9. Chapter 9

Devon was already starting to eat his lunch when Steve sat down beside him. Steve was quite wide-eyed and every movement he made seemed apprehensive. He didn't say a word, though, just went about his usual business. It was a good five minutes before Devon even noticed his irregular manner.

"Steve, what the hell?" Devon hollered. He was always a more straight-forward sort of person. Steve looked at him and tried to hide his disposition, though he did so rather poorly.

"What do you mean, 'what the hell'?" Steve asked. Devon blinked twice at him, then moved his arm so suddenly it caused Steve to flinch.

"I mean this," Devon said, motioning to Steve. "You're acting weird."

"No, I'm not acting weird at all," Steve unconvincingly replied, still recovering from Devon's swinging arm.

"Yeah, OK," Devon said, and he went back to eating his lunch. Steve continued to gawk at Devon, an action which Devon tried his hardest to ignore. Just as he was on the brink of cracking, Steve muttered something.

"I just heard something about you, is all." Devon dropped the fork he was holding onto his tray, and exaggeratedly turned to Steve.

"What did you hear?" he demanded. Steve waited a few seconds before shrugging and rolling his eyes in an obvious manner. Devon leaned forward and angered his face up a bit to show Steve that he was serious. "What did you hear?"

Steve looked at him with slight concern, and even tipped backwards a little. "Well, I mean it wasn't anything bad about you." Devon tensed his jaw, impatient for a real answer. "But someone did say something about your sister."

Devon shot a cruel look at Jonathan, who was nowhere near paying attention. Devon cleared his throat. Nothing. He cleared his throat again. Still nothing. He repeated a few more times, progressively growing louder, until finally Jonathan's head sprung up.

"What?" Jonathan innocently asked.

"You didn't tell anyone about Kirsten, did you?"

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows and replied, "No, why would I tell anyone about Kirsten?" Devon hopelessly sighed and turned back to Steve. Steve shook his head at Devon.

"I don't remember who was talking about it, but they said she's..." Steve lowered his voice and whispered, "you know, pregnant. Is that true?"

"Why is it any of your business?" Devon snapped, and Steve's jaw dropped.

"It is true!" he gasped, and turned his head to the boy sitting next to Jonathan. "Crack, you were right."

"I know," Crack replied, as if Steve's suggestion that he may have been wrong was completely and utterly insane. "Did you think I was lying?"

"No," Steve said, "I just didn't think his sister was slutty enough to get knocked up." Steve quickly turned to Devon, who's face was already scarlet with anger. "What is she, anyway, ten?"

"She's thirteen," Devon hissed through clenched teeth. "Why does everyone think she's ten?! And," he spat, "she's not a slut, OK? She's just... I don't know, but she's not a slut."

"OK, sor-"

"No, it's not OK," Devon interrupted, and he shoved a finger into Steve's chest. "Don't you ever talk that way about my sister."

"Devon, I'm sorry," Steve said, and a tiny crack in his voice showed that he was honestly frightened. He glanced around, as several boys from surrounding tables were beginning to peer over at them. "Maybe calm down a bit, yeah?"

Devon sat back in his seat and tried to cool off. Jonathan was staring at him worriedly; as of late, Devon's anger had become quite a problem. It was subtle most of the time, but it had been steadily getting worse since Devon flipped out on Chris.

Jonathan opened his mouth to say something, but before the words could leave his mouth, someone who was bustling up to their table shouted, "Devon!" Devon turned to find Mason walking towards him. Mason wiggled his fingers at Devon, and Devon narrowed his eyes. "Hey!"

"What do you want, Helsby?" Devon jeered. Mason smugly lifted the corners of his mouth and leaned his elbows onto the table.

"Do you remember that girl?" he quietly asked. "The one who my parents introduced to us?"

"That Italian girl?" Mason nodded, and Devon reluctantly continued, "What about her?" Mason didn't answer, though, he merely raised one eyebrow. Devon threw him a look of confusion, but soon enough he found an answer. "No way."

"Oh yeah," Mason laughed.

"You're lying."

"Well," Mason said, rolling his eyes, "maybe she didn't go as far as, say, your sister... but I got a lot farther than Chris did."

Wanting to control his temper, Devon ignored the horribly unfair shot at his sister, and asked, "Chris was with her?" At this, Jonathan, though he had already been listening, opened his ears even more intently.

"Yeah, she was actually his date to my parents' party the other night. She wasn't having a good time, though, so I took over." Mason grabbed the front of his blazer with both hands and held on pompously. "Let's just say that I'm," Mason switched to what he thought sounded like a seductive woman's voice, "more man than Chris could ever be."

Devon chuckled, even though Mason had begun to make awkward moaning sounds. "Did you tell Chris that? I'm sure he'd love it."

"Eh, he didn't really seem all that interested in her," Mason shrugged. "Plus, after I graciously pulled Emilia away from him, he ran off with Marina."

"Do you think that was a good idea? I mean, he's got quite a reputation." Mason chortled at Devon's statement, even though Devon was being quite serious. Devon just quickly looked over at Chris and shuddered. "He makes me sick, you know that?"

"Hey, man, there's no way all those rumors are true," Mason said. "I don't think there are that many girls who would want to be near him long enough. And that's saying something, because he probably doesn't take that long at all."

Mason threw back his head again, and this time Devon actually joined in, so the chortling became more of a howling that spread to the far corners of the cafeteria. Jonathan ached for the ability to say something, anything, to defend Chris, but he was forced to keep his mouth shut. Or, at least, he tried to keep his mouth shut.

"I thought you were his friend," Jonathan quietly said. Mason spun to Jonathan, quite surprised, as he hadn't realized Jonathan's presence.

"Chris and I are... acquaintances, you could say," Mason replied. "But we've never been friends."

"Oh," Jonathan replied, defeated, and he dropped out of the conversation there. Mason turned back to Devon, who, for a moment, was giving Jonathan a funny look.

"Anyway," Mason said to Devon, "you're just jealous because you wish you'd even seen as many girls as that kid has apparently slept with." Devon lifted his eyebrows as if to say that Mason had a point. Mason gave an odd sort of grunt, then left without saying another word. Devon didn't return to giving Jonathan the odd look he had given him before, but Jonathan knew that he had gone a bit too far. He couldn't help it though, and he certainly couldn't believe what he had just heard. Chris had told him the last time that he had to take a girl out, so why hadn't he mentioned anything this time?

Jonathan decided that the best way to find out would be to ask Chris directly, so that's exactly what he did. It was about twenty minutes after school had let out before they finally met at the old building. Chris was more chipper and upbeat than he usually was, it seemed, which was definitely a contrast to Jonathan's quiet and pensive state.

"Jonathan, did you know that no one's been in this building in 40 years?" Chris inquired. He was facing Jonathan, his hand resting on the side of the building and his legs folded beneath him. "Apparently they... What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Jonathan asked, looking up at Chris. Chris was dozily looking back at him, his bright blue eyes half-closed at the other boy.

"I mean, you're very quiet today and you look awfully sad," Chris replied, reaching over and grabbing Jonathan's hand. "Why do you look so sad, Jonathan?"

"Oh. You didn't tell me you had a date the other night." Jonathan looked down at his and Chris's intertwined fingers. "Were you planning to tell me?"

"No," Chris honestly replied, though he sounded hesitant to do so. "I didn't think you'd want to hear it."

"I guess you were right," Jonathan sighed. Chris turned and stretched out his legs.

"Would you like to be informed next time?" Jonathan shrugged, but Chris could see the despair past the seeming indifference. With his free hand, he held on to the side of Jonathan's face by his ear, and pulled Jonathan towards him as he said, "Jonathan, all of these girls... they're trivial, you know that?"

"They are?" Jonathan replied, moderately reluctant to believe Chris.

"Jonathan, I swear to you, I will never want any girl as much as I want you." Jonathan could feel his brain being slowly hypnotized by the blue eyes, through which a sudden fear quickly flashed, then soon vanished. "That's good enough, yeah? My word is good enough?"

Jonathan allowed himself to stare for a moment longer before quietly answering, "Yeah."

"Good," Chris hummed, gently stroking his thumb against Jonathan's cheek, "because I would hate for you to be too jealous to love me."

Jonathan lightly laughed as he said, "That's such a ridiculous thing for you to say."

"Why is it ridiculous?"

"I would only be jealous if I loved you."

"Of course." Chris grinned a cheesy smile and kissed Jonathan. He slowly brought his hand down to rest on Jonathan's shoulder. When his lips broke away, he seemed to sink into himself. "How long can we be together today, Jon?" Chris asked, staring down at his fidgeting hands.

"I don't think my mum will care when I get back, if she even notices I'm not there." Chris curved his eyes up to Jonathan, trying to suppress the stock of passion waiting to burst from his heart and bleed all over the other boy. Despite his nervousness, he smiled, because he really couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be spending his time with.

"I love you, Jon," Chris breathed with so much life that Jonathan was slightly bewildered. Part of it was that he seemed to say it so suddenly, but the honesty behind it was unmistakable.

"I love you, too," Jonathan smiled back, and Chris slid over until he and Jonathan were squished together.

"I hated that party, by the way," Chris mentioned. "The Helsby one. It was awful."

"That Mason kid stole your date?" Jonathan laughed, and Chris nodded.

"Yeah... at least I didn't have sex with anyone this time." Chris ran a hand over his forehead and through his hair, and he suddenly felt like he was going to vomit. He kept his head down, and within a few moments he felt Jonathan's hand on his back. What a sweet boy.

It took a few minutes, but Chris finally overcame his uneasiness. He took a deep breath and looked up at Jonathan, tentatively bringing himself back into the moment. Jonathan gave a tiny smile and took his hand back.

"What was it like... having sex with a girl?" Jonathan inquired, and Chris felt his anxiety rush back.

"Jon!"

"Right," Jonathan shook his head, "sorry. Sorry, I just.. it's kinda hard, I guess, going to an all boys school... but at least I've got you."

"Yeah," Chris said, with only a hint of fluster, "we've got each other." Chris boldly moved his hand, letting it rest on Jonathan's thigh. He watched a quick, sharp intake of oxygen pass into Jonathan's lungs, and for a second he was worried that it had been the wrong thing to do. But Jonathan didn't do or say anything, so Chris's hand laid awkwardly for a while. "Oh, fuck it," he eventually exclaimed, and, letting his emotions take over, he lifted himself off the ground, swung his leg over Jonathan's, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Jonathan hadn't expected this, so at first he was a bit shocked, but soon he gave in and went along with Chris's audacity.

While his mouth was busy consuming Jonathan's, Chris's hands ran wildly over the other boy's torso. Jonathan wasn't sure that Chris was ever going to stop, not that he minded entirely. But eventually Chris did stop, quite abruptly, and he slowly backed away from Jonathan.

"I don't think we should go any farther than that," Chris said, and he sounded frightened like a child in the dark.

"That's fine," Jonathan gawkily replied. "I wasn't really expecting us to."

Chris brought his knees to his chest and stared at Jonathan. His blue eyes pierced through Jonathan as he thought, pondering their relationship. "Jon, we don't really know much about each other, do we?"

Jonathan sat silent for a moment, then replied, "You said you have an older brother?"

"I have two older brothers, actually. They're both off on their own now... married... children..." Chris flinched as his voice trailed away, leaving Jonathan to fill in the emptiness.

"Oh. I'm an only child."

Chris halfheartedly smiled and said, "Lucky you. Uh," his voice shrilled, and he stood up and dusted his hands nervously. "I think my mom is probably expecting me home for dinner soon, so..."

"You're leaving, then?" Jonathan pushed himself off the ground. He was worried; Chris was acting really strange, and almost distant. Chris absentmindedly nodded, then wrapped his arms around Jonathan. He was overcome with a rush of emotion that was in no way new to him, yet it completely overwhelmed him.

"Oh, God."

"What?" Jonathan looked at Chris alertly. Chris simply averted his eyes and shook his head.

"It's nothing. Bye, Jon." With that, Chris walked away. Jonathan stayed behind for about ten minutes, only because he didn't feel like going home. There was no other reason for him to wait; no one would have been around to notice Chris and Jonathan leaving at the same time.

A whole week had passed since his father's death, and Jonathan felt like any progress made between he and his mother had been diminished. This time, though, it was Penny who was hiding. He had only seen her a total of two or three times since the accident, and that was including the funeral. He wasn't exactly sure, but he guessed that she was usually locked up in the bedroom she and Randall had shared. That's probably where Jonathan had gotten it from.

Oddly enough, Jonathan found it much more therapeutic to roam around the house rather than sit in his room. He had never really noticed how big their house was; in fact, it seemed like everyday he discovered a room he had never known existed before. It was quiet, too, which may have seemed eerie to anyone else, but to Jonathan it was normal and comforting. At times he wondered if he even missed Randall and all of his boisterousness.

He did. It was weird to admit, even to himself, but Randall was as much a part of him as anything else. He certainly never liked his hair, but if he suddenly went bald, he'd miss it. Plus, Randall was gone, but nothing else had changed. His life wasn't really that much better than it had been.

On the way home, Jonathan, as usual, walked past Devon's house. Kirsten was sitting on the front steps, staring out into the street. Jonathan stopped to greet her, though he remained standing on the sidewalk.

"Hey, Kirsten." Kirsten snapped out of whatever trance she'd been in, and flicked her head towards Jonathan.

"Jonathan! Hi." She seemed cheery, but there was a sorrowful quality in her tone.

Jonathan squinted his eyes and asked, "Are you crying?" Kirsten gasped a little, and self-consciously wiped her cheeks.

"Oh, you know. Just hormonal, I guess." Jonathan decided to walk over to her, and sat down beside her. "I should probably get used to it, seeing as I've got nine more months of this to go through." Kirsten studied Jonathan's face briefly, then said, "You look concerned." Jonathan gave a small laugh.

"Do I?" Kirsten tapered her eyes and observed him again.

"Yeah. Even when you're laughing." Then, quickly, her face fell into sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear about your father. That's horrible."

"Thank you. To be honest, though, he kinda did it to himself. The drinking..."

"Still," Kirsten said, "I imagine it's not easy to deal with." She waited a long moment before continuing, "Hey, you didn't happen to pass by Devon, did you?"

"No, why?"

"He kinda stormed off earlier. I was hoping maybe he hadn't gone too far." Kirsten messed with the hem of her skirt, then looked up and gave Jonathan a fake smile. "It's no big deal, though, he'll be fine."

"He stormed off?" Jonathan asked, and became consciously aware of his concerned look.

"Yeah, he was upset about... something, I don't know." Kirsten stared at the grassy lawn before her, and her eyes started to water a little. Jonathan suddenly felt a tension in the air, and it made him shift uncomfortably.

"Kirsten, it was nice seeing you, but I should be going now." Jonathan hopped off the steps and began to walk away. "If I see Devon, I'll tell him to come home."

"Thank you," she replied, her voice terribly shaky. "Goodbye, Jonathan." Jonathan gave her a small salute, which he realized shortly after must have looked completely ridiculous. He didn't care, though, because by that point she was already far enough behind him that it didn't matter anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

It was kinda cold, he wasn't gonna lie. Jonathan strolled down the sidewalk, hands deep in his jacket pockets and chin buried under the collar. Every step he took sent cold air whooshing past his face, but it wasn't like he could stop. There was no other way for him to get to school.

Three minutes into his now-habitual journey to school, he passed by a house with a familiar blue door. Devon was standing by his mother and her car, bouncing from foot to foot in order to warm himself. Jonathan was too busy hiding his face from the cold to notice them, but Devon didn't miss out on seeing Jonathan.

"Jon!" Devon exclaimed, running to his friend. Jonathan looked up and stopped."What are you doing?"

"Walking to school," Jonathan innocently replied, and he shrugged back into the warmth of his jacket.

Devon scrunched up his nose and asked, "Why?"

"Devon, are you coming?" his mother called. Devon waved his hand without looking back, and she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Because my mum won't drive anywhere anymore."

"Oh." Devon spun around and called to his mother, "Mum, I'm walking with Jon!" She looked at him like he was crazy, but just shrugged and got into the car without saying anything. When he spun back to Jonathan, he also looked at Devon like he was crazy. "What?"

"Nothing," Jonathan answered. He nodded in the direction that he'd been walking and said, "Let's get going then."

They began to move their feet, and the sidewalk whirled by beneath them, silently and without even a speck of protest. A few minutes along the way, an icy chill ran it's way down Devon's back, and he twitched and groaned, "It's so cold."

"Yeah, it is. But you didn't have to walk with me, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Devon sassed, mimicking Jonathan's hiding-in-my-jacket appearance, "I just thought I'd walk with you because we haven't hung out in ages."

"Well, you've been grounded for so long," Jonathan defended. "I never even see you outside of school."

"I'm not grounded anymore. And I went to your house yesterday, but you weren't there."

"Seriously? When?"

"A bit after school," Devon answered. "I was at home, but Kirsten was giving me a hard time about... something or other. I went to your house to see you, but no one answered."

"Oh, right. I was walking around town," Jonathan lied, and quickly coughed, though he realized it was a bit conspicuous. Devon hadn't noticed it, fortunately; he appeared to be deep in thought. "So, you guys had, like, a fight or something?"

"Huh? Oh, well, it wasn't so much of a fight, she was just getting on my nerves." Devon took a deep breath, but he could still feel something building inside of him. "She does that a lot, though, and sometimes I just wanna..."  
Devon visibly clenched his jaw, which provoked Jonathan to ask, "Devon, is there something, like, really bothering you? Do you want to talk...?"

"No, I'm fine," Devon replied, but a fierceness was large in his tone.

"All right. It's just that yesterday I talked to Kirsten, and she-"

"Yeah, well, Kirsten's pretty stupid sometimes," Devon snapped, and Jonathan looked at him with a great amount of fear shooting through his eyes. "It doesn't take a genius not to get pregnant."

Jonathan wasn't sure how to respond to Devon's rashness, and Devon was too riled up to say anything else, so the pair walked the rest of the stretch in silence. By the time they got to the school, the only boys still outside were in a group gathered by the door. Jonathan watched them, but as he walked by, Chris kept his head down. He wasn't even talking to any of the other boys. They were talking to him, but it was obvious that he wasn't fully there.

In the few hours that passed between the time they split to go to homeroom and the time they met up for lunch, Devon had not seemed to calm down too much, or so Jonathan thought. Even as he stuck his fork into the mashed potatoes on his tray, Devon's anger was quite apparent.

"Mashed potatoes aren't alive, you know. You can't kill them," Jonathan said in an attempt to lighten the mood. He should have known that it wouldn't work.

Devon shot him a nasty look and said, "You want me to talk? Fine. How about the fact that I'm not grounded, but my parents still won't let me do anything, thanks to Kirsten? Does that seem fair to you?"

"Devon, I was kidding, you don't have to get-"

"I mean, she's the one who went and got herself pregnant, I don't see why I should be punished for it." Devon stabbed his fork into the mountain of mashed potatoes, nearly splattering them all over the place. He glared at the food, then decided he no longer wanted it. He quickly scanned the cafeteria scattered with boys, some walking, some sitting, and muttered, "I'll be back."

Devon stood up, carrying his tray, and began to walk away when a spaced-out Chris bumped into him and exclaimed, "Oh!" Devon didn't have such a great hold on the tray, so the bump from Chris sent it crashing to the ground.

As Chris backed away, Devon spat at him, "Watch where you're going next time." Chris nodded.

"Of course. Excuse m-" Chris tried to walk around Devon, but was stopped by the presence of Devon's hand on his chest.

"Of course? You think you're better than me, don't you? You think you're better than everyone." Chris stared at him, wondering what the hell was going on, and Devon just kept getting threateningly closer. "But I'll bet you've made more mistakes than anyone else in this room."

"I-I, uh..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Devon sneered.

Chris tried to back away, and was helped with a shove from Devon. As Chris regained his composure, he said, "Listen, Devon, I told you how I feel about... what I did."

"What, that you regret it? A lot of good that does."

"It's not like I wanted any of this to happen! I didn't even want to..." Chris looked like he was going to throw up- or cry- but Devon didn't pay it any attention. The confession that Chris was never even interested in Kirsten pissed Devon off so much that he grabbed Chris's wrist, squeezing it with so much effort that Chris gasped in pain.

Through teeth clenched in fury, Devon gritted, "If you didn't want to, then why did you do it?"

Chris started to panic, and he was heaving breaths as he said, "Your- your sister's very convincing." Devon wasn't pleased with this answer, so he twisted his arm, slowly bending Chris's wrist back with it. Chris whimpered, but didn't fight back; he was honestly too afraid. Someone decided to fight, though, and Devon felt a hand fiercely smack his arm for attention.

"Devon, stop it! He didn't do anything to you, he didn't hit you or anything. Have some control over yourself!" Jonathan yelled. Devon shot him a look and flared his nostrils.

"Control?! You wanna see control?" Devon raised his free hand, left it in the air for a fraction of a second. Jonathan blinked, and the next thing he knew Devon's hand was back at his side once more, the back of his hand fresh with the red of collision. Jonathan turned his head. A giant blotch of red seeped and colored Chris's cheek.

"DEVON!" Jonathan bellowed, forcefully pushing Devon backwards and releasing his hold on Chris. Devon retaliated by throwing his fist into Jonathan's face.

Then everything slowed down. Jonathan's vision blurred; Devon had hit him mostly in the eye. Devon stood frozen, stunned by his own aggressiveness. He looked down at his hands, breath shaking, then looked back up at Jonathan.

"Jon," he said as an authoritative hand grabbed his shoulder, and just before Jonathan passed out, he cried, "I need help."

*

When he came to, Jonathan opened his eyes to a view of the ceiling of the nurse's office. He was laying on some sort of cot, and it soon became apparent that only one of his eyes was open. The other was being smothered by an extremely cold ice pack. He grabbed the pack with his hand and sat up.

He must not have been out for very long, because sitting in a chair by the door was Chris. The nurse seemed to be in some other room, and Chris was waiting patiently for her return. He'd only been slapped, so surely the nurse wouldn't keep him in there for an extended period of time.

Chris was staring down at the floor, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the armrest of the chair. That's when Jonathan noticed a dark gray wrist wrap around Chris's wrist. He'd forgotten about Chris's wrist, but judging by the wrap, it was probably sprained. So, maybe he actually had been there for a while.

Chris sighed and slowly began to look around the room. When his eyes caught sight of Jonathan, a bright grin stretched from one ear to the other. He looked as though he was about to say something, when suddenly the door opened and the nurse walked in.

"All right, Christopher, you may leave now," she said as she walked over to her desk, a mess of paperwork in her hand. She grabbed a pen and marked something on the top sheet, and Chris held his hand to his heart before he left. The nurse quickly glided over to Jonathan as the door shut, and she demanded that he lower the ice pack so she could get a good look. "Yeah, you're gonna have a nasty bruise."

"Great," Jonathan lamented. The nurse raised one eyebrow in return, as if to say that that was just the way things were.

"Keep that ice pack on for an hour or so. You can go back to class, but I'd like for you to stop by again before you leave school today."

Jonathan nodded, and within a minute or so he was out the door and into the empty hallway. He realized how weird he must look holding an ice pack up to his eye, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. He'd probably look weirder with a black eye, anyway.

News spread like wildfire in that school, and it seemed like everyone had heard about the fight even before it was over. Not that it was much of a fight, anyway, but even the tiniest bit of drama was wondrous to the boys whose lives were otherwise astonishingly empty and plain.

It seemed like everyone had chosen Jonathan to be the hero, because even though he was the one who ended up being injured the most, Devon was just totally out of his mind, and Chris hadn't put up a fight at all. And so, for one tiny bit of a day, Jonathan's name was all around the school. People actually knew who he was. Even though they hadn't known what he looked like before- now he was easily distinguishable by the black eye- almost every boy acknowledged him as he walked out of the school. It was as if he was some sort of celebrity to them. He couldn't say that he particularly liked the attention.

Penny was in the kitchen when Jonathan arrived home, much to his surprise. She was simply sitting at the table, staring across the room, but Jonathan was sure it was the first time he had seen her in days. She looked up at him as he walked in, and immediately stood up as she saw his bruised face.

"What happened?" she quietly asked.

"It's a long story," Jonathan answered. "And I kinda don't feel like talking about it. I think I'm just gonna go lay down, if that's all right."

"Yeah, that's fine," she said. Her voice was so soft and sad, a sort of grief lingering behind every word she spoke, but there was also a very maternal light shining through her tone. "Just tell me if you need anything."

"Thanks." Jonathan left his mother in the kitchen and slugged his way up to his room. He collapsed on his bed as quickly as he could, and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he always did.

He didn't have anything to think about, though. It was as if he'd thought about everything so much over the past few weeks that his brain was just empty now. That, or maybe Devon's punch affected him more than he thought. The only thing he could think about was how badly his eye hurt. The pain was pretty much screaming at him, flamboyantly flailing its arms around, so it wasn't as though he could really ignore it. The pain was so boring, though, to think about, and so he found himself drifting off.

After his nap, which was long enough for the sun to turn everything a pinkish orange, he shifted a little in his bed, but not much. By the time he was done shifting, he'd only moved his head maybe about an inch across the pillow. His ears steadily tuned into the world around him, and he could hear his mother's voice speaking gently from downstairs. A minute or so later, footsteps were approaching, but Jonathan remained exactly where he was.

"Jon?" Devon was at the door, and he looked pretty calm, but Jonathan couldn't be entirely sure. He cautiously stepped into the room, after a welcoming grunt from Jonathan, and lamented the sight of his best friend. "How's your eye?"

Jonathan sat up. His eye, while only a bit swollen, was completely purple. And it hurt like hell. "How does it look?"

"I'm really sorry for flipping out on you like that," Devon said. Jonathan sighed, and moved his legs so Devon could sit down. Devon did so, a horrible guilt rising in him all the while. "They're sending me away, you know."

"Who's sending you? And where?"

"My parents. I'm not sure where exactly, but it's some... mental institution." Devon stared with a maniacal glare in his eyes, then he started to laugh. "Jon, I'm crazy." He looked to Jonathan, and his smile began to fade. Jonathan's head was down, disheartened by this news.

"You're my only real friend, you know that?" Jonathan quietly said.

"You're my best friend. Certainly the last person I would ever want to hurt, 'cause you're really nice, and you don't deserve it. But..." Devon sighed, "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Why were you so defensive?" Jonathan looked up at Devon. The answer was simple, but he didn't know if he should say it. Devon was his best friend, and he wasn't going to be around for much longer, so trust wasn't an issue. But he wasn't sure how Devon would react. "Because, I mean, it's not like you and Chris are even friends, right? I know I was acting really, really horrible, but I didn't think that you'd stand up to me like that, especially since I wasn't hurting you."

"Devon, Chris..." Jonathan paused for a while, and chuckled at his inability to speak. "I don't know how to say this."

"You're-you're not... right?" Devon asked, his voice a slight mixture of concern and confusion. Jonathan shook his head, and for a second or two Devon relaxed a bit.

"No, I'm not, but... well, Chris and I are sort of together." Devon didn't respond, didn't even change his facial expression. In fact, his entire visage was just blank. Even his eyes had lost their lunacy. Jonathan wasn't sure what to make of this; Devon's lack of expression, while it may have seemed better than Devon going off the wall again, did not necessarily mean that he was handling it well.

"How long?" Devon croaked after what seemed like hours, though it had really only been a minute or two. Jonathan released the breath he'd been holding, glad that at least Devon was staying calm.

"A few months."

"Months?!" Devon shrieked, but Jonathan noticed that his face had changed to something resembling concern. "So, you mean that when he and Kirsten... you two...?"

"Yeah," Jonathan muttered.

"And I hit him." Devon's eyes were scanning the air in front of him, invisible memories haunting his vision. "The first time... I could have killed him... Jon!" He forcefully grabbed Jonathan's shoulders, but he didn't mean any harm. "If I had known... I'm sorry."

"Yeah, but I didn't want you to know, I didn't want anyone to know, so don't worry about it too much." Devon stared for a few moments, then his face light up with realization.

"You stopped me," he smiled, pointing at Jonathan. "You were trying to save him from me. That's sweet." Jonathan laughed.

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would have," Jonathan said. "Maybe you are crazy."

"Oh, I'm definitely crazy. But I think that's a good thing, because I don't know how I'd have dealt with this before." Devon frowned at the thought of his possible alternative behavior. "Am I the only one who knows?"

"I hope so, because I haven't told anyone else," Jonathan replied.

"Cool. Well... I guess it's time for me to go home." Devon stood up, and Jonathan soon followed. "And pack for the crazy house."

"Good luck, man," Jonathan muttered.

"I don't know when the next time I see you will be," Devon said. He winced again at Jonathan's bruised face, and Jonathan hugged him. "Thank you for telling me. And your secret's safe with me. Not like I have anyone to tell, anyway."

"Don't be gone long, yeah?" Jonathan said, patting Devon's back as he let go.

"Definitely. I mean, this place sucks as it is, but I can't imagine that wherever I'm going will be much better." Devon sighed, "I'll miss you, Jon."

"I'll miss you, too...Dev." Devon chuckled and raised his hand in farewell.

"See ya." Jonathan returned the hand motion, and sat back down on his bed as Devon disappeared. The sun was slipping away more and more by the minute, and Jonathan knew he should probably go downstairs for dinner, but he was still tired. So, he laid back down and closed his eyes, and he realized something: for the first time since his father died, something had changed. Quite a big change, too, since now Jonathan was practically friendless. Sure, there were still all those other kids he sometimes talked to in school, but he didn't like any of them, which he was assured of by the time he had to spend with them while Devon was suspended.

Steve and Crack were always quarreling, even if it was only in jest, Tom was always talking about things no one cared about, Spencer was still collecting stuff, and Matt was always making fun of everyone. He'd lean over to Jonathan and point to some random boy walking by, say something really nasty about him, and Jonathan would give a fake laugh like he was paying Matt any attention. In actuality, he was just silently praying for the day to end. Or for something really heavy to fall on them, so he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. Of course, he realized that was pretty cruel, so eventually he settled for the day ending.

Then the day would end, and he'd be happy until he realized that he'd have to go back again the next day. Seeing Chris after school helped, though as of late Chris seemed rather out of it. He was always staring off, thinking, but when he actually was focused on Jonathan, he was always smiling like mad. It was almost confusing, this weird mixture of actions, but Jonathan figured that if something really was wrong, Chris would talk to him about it.

Jonathan couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling and clasped his hands on his stomach. The ceiling tiles were the same, but soon nothing else would be. Something had actually changed, and Jonathan knew there would be some sort of domino effect. It was only a matter of time.

As the last remnants of daylight dawdled in the air, Penny called up to Jonathan for dinner. Hesitantly, he got out of bed and walked downstairs. At least he was still alive. Not all change is bad.


	11. Chapter 11

Chris picked at the fuzz that was clinging to his charcoal pants. He was sitting huddled up against Jonathan, since it was a little cold, though not as cold as it was in the mornings. With nothing else to do, Jonathan quietly watched Chris. After a minute or two, Chris stopped and looked up at Jonathan.

"I appreciate what you did for me yesterday," Chris quietly said, "standing up to Devon like that." He wanted to hold Jonathan's hand, but the wrist wrap prevented him from doing so. Instead, he rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "He's scary."

"He's insane," Jonathan added, wrapping his arm around Chris. Chris relaxed under Jonathan's touch, and tried to sink deeper into Jonathan. "His parents sent him away to get help, though."

"I hope nothing like that happens to me," Chris hoarsely replied, fidgeting with his hands. Jonathan looked at him and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Chris stalled for a moment, tensing a little, then quickly said, "Uh... going crazy. I'd hate to be completely bonkers like that."

"Why do you think you'd go crazy?" Jonathan, quite oblivious, laughed. He reached his hand up and gently stroked Chris's hair.

"Well, you never know," Chris shrugged. "I mean, did you ever think Devon would go crazy like that?"

"Hmm, good point... I told him about us, by the way." Chris lifted his head up and looked at Jonathan with scared eyes. Jonathan moved his arm down to Chris's back.

"Why would you do that?" Chris croaked. There was no anger in his voice, just fear, which both relieved and puzzled Jonathan.

"Because I trust him. And because he's gone now, anyway, so if he tells anyone, there's not much that'll be done about it."

"Oh, well, I guess if you trust him, then he's all right..." Chris, defeated yet complacent, stared at Jonathan's bruised face. The purple hue around his eye was quite disheartening. "I love you, Jonathan," Chris said, and before Jonathan could respond, he swiftly jumped onto his feet and held his hand out. "Come on."

"Why?" Jonathan asked, but he grabbed Chris's hand anyway and stood up. Chris placed his wrist-wrapped hand on the small of Jonathan's back and pulled him forward.

"Because it's easier to do this standing up," Chris whispered. He leaned his lips into Jonathan's, and stuck his free hand inside of Jonathan's jacket, resting it gently on the other boy's side. "I love you," he breathed into Jonathan's ear.

"You already said that," Jonathan replied with a soft laugh.

"Uh huh, and I could say it a thousand times more and I would still mean it," Chris said. He took a big breath, then rattled off, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," ending it with a delicate kiss on Jonathan's cheek.

"That was nowhere near a thousand," Jonathan said in a disappointed voice, though with a hint of jest.

"No, but it's still true." Chris smiled wide, and he blushed a little as he continued, "And I'm... I'm a lot happier around you, Jonathan, did you know that? Because I feel like I can be myself."

"Really?" Jonathan asked in honest disbelief. Chris lowered his eyebrows, waiting for Jonathan to clarify as to why he was skeptical. "I mean, I know I don't usually see you otherwise, but you don't seem all that different around everyone else."

"Well, I don't know, I just feel like I have to act around other people." Chris stared off for a brief moment, and Jonathan got the sense that Chris was struggling to say something. But Chris merely shook his head back to the present and said, "Whatever. Listen, Jonathan, you're being quite cheeky today."

"Am I?" Jonathan antagonized Chris. But Jonathan hadn't given Chris enough credit, and Chris, knowing exactly that it was one of Jonathan's weaknesses, moved his hand to the middle of Jonathan's abdomen and circled his thumb around. Jonathan let out a stimulated gasp, and Chris grinned smugly.

"Yes. Now, less lip, more tongue." Jonathan began to laugh, but didn't have much time before he found himself complying with Chris's demand. Chris found himself filled with the strong desire to move his hand a little further down than its current resting place, but a sort of panic held him back. He tried to tell himself that it was absurd, but he just couldn't step out of the fear.

Eventually, they both came up for air, and Jonathan breathlessly said, "I love you, too, Chris, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know that," Chris laughed as if Jonathan's question was completely ridiculous. He finally moved his hand, but only to brush Jonathan's cheek. "You're a very handsome boy, even with that awful-looking eye. Painful awful, I mean," Chris said, "but I'd love to sit and stare at you all day."

"Well, thanks," Jonathan replied, setting his hand on Chris's hip. Chris flinched a little, but he was smiling widely as he looked at Jonathan. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Of course," Chris gently laughed. Then, still smiling, he tilted his head a little. "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Jonathan?"

"No, why?"

"Just wondering." Chris rested his one hand on the crook of Jonathan's shoulder, then tried to position his other hand on the opposite shoulder so that the wrist wrap wouldn't be too much of a bother. He gave a contented sigh and gracefully blinked at Jonathan. "People don't call girls handsome, do they?"

It took Jonathan a moment to answer, since Chris's question seemed to have come out of nowhere. "Uh, I don't believe girls are ever referred to as handsome, no." Chris nodded, and carried his eyes up as if he was thinking about something.

"I thought not. Girls are referred to as... beautiful, or pretty. But I think boys could be pretty. Certainly gorgeous..." Chris stared at the ground with big eyes, then continued, "For boys or girls, of course."

"Yeah, probably," Jonathan cautiously said. He wasn't quite sure what to make of Chris's ramblings. Chris caught sight of Jonathan's confusion, and tried to clarify with what Jonathan thought might not have been a real answer to his unasked question.

"It's good to know these things, isn't it?" Chris explained.

"Sure, it is." Jonathan closely examined the other boy, not actually looking for anything in particular. He did find something, a little unexpectedly. Not surprisingly, though, because he always felt a bit weak when Chris looked at him with those big, blue eyes. And they were like the strongest magnets in the world; it was almost physically impossible to look away. "Chris, I think I'd say you're gorgeous."

Chris's smile widened, if that was even possible. "Yeah? But I'm the only boy you'd call gorgeous, right?"

"Definitely," Jonathan immediately answered, and at first it looked as though Chris was disappointed. He smiled again in a second, though, bright like always.

"Good."

Chris didn't really space out much after that. Not for the rest of that afternoon, at least. He was incredibly concentrated on being with Jonathan, and making the most of the moments they had together. He still couldn't get past that fear, though, that tiny little speck of fear that held him back, but he knew he would get over it in time. In time he could get used to it, get used to the fear, and eventually it would be like it wasn't even there. Absolutely normal, and Chris would be absolutely normal. He was normal, anyway; it's not like there was that big of a difference between him and the other boys.

The furthest his courage took him was to walk with Jonathan as they both left, just until they reached the corner of the building. He made sure he was walking on the proper side so that he could hold Jonathan's hand. Before they parted ways, Chris stopped Jonathan and sweetly kissed him.

"Goodbye, Jonathan," Chris cooed. He walked away, and the grin that had been plastered on his face for the past few hours began to fade as he remembered what he was walking towards. He closed his eyes for a little bit every now and then on spots of the sidewalk where he was sure he wouldn't run into anyone or thing, thinking of Jonathan and how nice it was to be with him. And when he was sure that with eyes closed he'd nearly kill himself by smashing into stagnant objects, he'd just drift off into the lovely daydream world he'd created for himself. Mostly he spent his dream world time being with Jonathan.

Jonathan was much more conscious on his way home. He didn't drift off into another world, rather he watched everything that passed him by, or that he passed by, and tried to take in as much of it as he could. It was painfully cold outside, and while the thick lining of his jacket kept him moderately warm, his face was left bare. It pinked with the blustering air, and Jonathan hoped that his mother would soon take up driving again so he wouldn't freeze to death.

The warm air pounded him as he closed the front door, and for a second it was more painful than the cold. His body conformed with it quickly, though, and it became this sensational rush toasting him and returning his cheeks to a normal peachy color. He stood in the hallway for a little while, enjoying the ability to feel his nose again, and it never occurred to him that Penny was in the other room. Then he heard her move around, and it startled him at first, but he soon realized what the sound was.

"Hey, mum!" he shouted, still warming up in the hallway. Penny poked her head around the corner, a rather worried look dancing upon her wrinkled face.

"Jonathan, what are you doing home so late?" she calmly asked, stepping forward towards her son. The closer she got, the more prevalent the bags under her eyes became. Jonathan innocently looked up at her, and was saddened by what he saw. Penny hardly even looked like his mother anymore.

"You know me, mum, I like to walk around a lot." She didn't seem to believe him, but she didn't really fight much, either.

"In the cold?"

"It's not like I have a ride home or anything," Jonathan muttered. Penny lowered her head, ashamed, though Jonathan hadn't meant for his words to sound so cruel.

"Would you like some tea?" she kindly asked. "It'll help to warm you." Jonathan nodded, even though he wasn't sure Penny would see him.

"Yeah, thanks." Penny glanced at Jonathan once more with defeated eyes, then turned and entered the kitchen. Jonathan kicked off his shoes and left them by the door, then followed his mother. It seemed as though she had sensed his imminent return, and had already heated up a kettle before he even walked through the door. She poured him a cup, and one for herself, then carried them to the table, where Jonathan was seated.

"Here you go, sweetheart," she said, placing one of the steaming cups in front of Jonathan. He thanked her and carefully held it in between his hands. The hot ceramic nearly burned him, but he really, really wanted to be warm. Penny sat down opposite Jonathan, and just stared into her cup.

"Mum, how was your day?" Penny lifted her eyes with a bit of surprise. She gazed around the room for a bit, trying to think of something to say.

"It was as it usually is, I suppose. I did some cleaning. I made some tea." She connected her eyes with Jonathan's, and Jonathan thought he could see a bit of agony swirling behind them. "Nothing new."

"Oh," he plainly said. "My day wasn't that exciting, either."

Jonathan decided that his tea had enough time to cool down by this point, and so he ventured a sip as his mother asked, "Were you with Devon earlier?"

"Uh, no, actually," Jonathan replied, setting the cup back down on the table. He had been wrong in thinking that it wasn't too hot to drink, and now his tongue felt really smooth and stinging. "He kinda... Well, he has some anger issues, and so he's gone now. To fix those issues. His parents sent him away. Hopefully he'll get better." The silence was too awkward for Jonathan, and so he continued to ramble on until his mother finally spoke up, which was quite some time later.

"Anger issues," she quietly repeated. "Is that what happened to your eye, then?" Jonathan unconsciously raised a hand to his bruised eye. He had almost forgotten about it.

"Uh, yeah." Jonathan let his hand fall, and sighed as he looked at his mother. "Mum, what's happened to us?"

Penny scrunched her eyebrows and replied, "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that... like, I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've talked in a week. More than just a few words. And even then, this isn't much of a conversation."

"Right. It's just been so hard," Penny stammered, her baggy eyes welling with tears. In order to hinder any sort of embarrassment, she buried her face in her hands. It was hardly any use, though, and Jonathan could see a few drops splash down from her hands and into the untouched cup of tea below.

"You really did love him, didn't you?" Jonathan asked in a low voice. Penny wiped her eyes dry and nodded.

"Yes, definitely. Jonathan, I know you don't understand why, but," Penny reached across the table and grabbed Jonathan's hand, "you're young still. You're only a boy, I don't expect you to know much about love." Jonathan looked hard at his mother, and suddenly he began to feel that she was right.

"Then tell me," he said. He wanted to have an actual talk with Penny, since he couldn't remember a time in his life when they had actually had one that went somewhere.

"I know it sounds horrible to say this, but... Jonathan, it's all my fault." Jonathan opened his mouth in objection, but Penny raised her hand to silence him. "Before you say anything, let me explain. You see... well, love is a complicated sort of thing. In movies and books and stuff, they always make it seem so glamorous. You'll always fall in love with the perfect person."

"That's not how it really is," Jonathan stated for her, and she shook her head.

"There is no such thing as perfect, Jonathan," Penny continued. "No one is even close to perfect. But being in love is being able to see past those imperfections and appreciate someone for the good in them. It's by no means easy, and I think that's why not very many people know what true love is."

"So, you're saying that if someone is a jerk to you, but you can forget about that because they have some nicer qualities, then that's love?" Jonathan asked in an almost bitter tone. Yet, something was stirring in the back of his mind.

"It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But yes. That's where it gets tricky, though." Penny stared down at her tea, which was still brimming, and sighed discontentedly. "He had a problem, it wasn't hard to see. I noticed it, you noticed it, everyone noticed it. He tried to get help. He wanted to get help. It worked... and for quite a long time."

"Sober for three years," Jonathan said.

"Yep. It was great. Sure, he was still a little rough around the edges, but that was just something to admire. His unwillingness to back down and listen to other people. It helped him to get that big promotion, which paid for the house, your school. Everything." Penny paused for a moment, and shrugged indifferently. "It didn't last forever. Hardly anything does."

Jonathan continued to stare, waiting for things to become clear, because this thing was still wriggling to life in his head, but it wasn't quite there. "I still don't get how this is your fault."

"When you love someone you forget about the bad stuff," Penny said- unhelpfully, at least to Jonathan. They'd already gone over that, and Jonathan felt like he was losing his patience, because he just wanted to understand what was going on. "So there's no choice but to let the bad stuff slide. Do you know how damaging that is?"

Finally, a point had been made, but Jonathan was still a bit fuzzy. "No."

"If you let someone get away with all of their bad habits it only hurts everyone involved. Maybe not at first, maybe not even noticeably, but it does." Penny pushed away the cup and clasped her hands on the table. She was holding on so tight that her fingers turned white rather quickly. "And that's why it's my fault. Do you see now?"

"Kinda," Jonathan said, which was nearly a lie. The wriggling, stirring thing had seemed to grow legs, but it was still crawling around.

"If you love someone, you should want them to be the best they can. But loving them so much that you don't really pay attention to anything but the good parts holds them back. Do you understand?" Her fingers were still very white, and the tears were returning to her eyes. "I loved him, I did, but I didn't do it right. I couldn't help him."

"Mum, you can't-"

"No, Jonathan. I can." Penny leaned forward to get as close to her son as she could. Her voice started to shake, but she carried on regardless. "When you do love someone, make sure that you help them. Anyway you can. If they need to change, help them change. For good, don't just do it because you don't like one little thing about them. But if it's something that could hurt them, don't just sit there and let it happen. Help." Penny sat back and tried to stop the tears that were begging to be released from their ocular prison.

But Jonathan just stared. His brain was soaking in the words like a dry sponge, and they replayed over and over on some sort of continuous loop. Every time they changed, though, until they were no longer Penny's words. They were new words. Familiar words, though, but where had he heard them before?

_I appreciate what you did for me._ They were so familiar, almost as if he'd said them himself. _I would hate for you to be too jealous to love me._ He didn't say that. Did he? _My condolences._ No, it definitely wasn't him. _I can't have you here when she comes._ The answer was right there, why couldn't he get it?

_This is all my fault. I should have thought about how jealous it would make you_. That voice. So sweet, and so familiar. _You didn't purposely come looking for me, did you?_ Almost...

_You know me, Jon. Everyone loves me._

"Of course." Jonathan hardly recognized that it was his voice saying that. It wasn't until Penny looked up that he realized.

"Of course?" she repeated. Jonathan shook himself back to the reality of the kitchen table. He took a look at his eye in the horrible refection that the tea cup provided. It did look awful.

"Thank you for the advice, mum," Jonathan replied, and he stood up. He walked over to Penny and placed his hand on her shoulder. "But don't blame yourself, because that won't do you any good, either." She briefly laid her hand on top of his, silently thanking him. When she let go, he took his hand back, too, and left the kitchen intending to go up to his own room.

Not all change is bad. That doesn't make it easy. Jonathan fell onto his bed and sighed. He looked over at his lamp, the plug still dangling off the side of the table. What did he even need that lamp for, anyway? He hadn't used it in, like, a month.

He stared at it for a couple of minutes. It was a lamp that he'd had since he was a little kid. His mother probably bought it for one of his birthdays or a Christmas. Or maybe one of his other, more distant relatives had given it to him. Either way, he didn't use it anymore. It just sat there, taking up space.

Things were changing. Well, no, they weren't; he had to initiate the change. So, the first step would be to get rid of this lamp.

Jonathan swiftly swung his legs over the side of his bed, and grabbed the lamp off the table. He walked over to his window and heaved it open. Once the pane was locked in place he let go of the lamp, watching it as it made its fatal way to the ground. It smashed the instant it even scratched the surface of the earth below Jonathan's window. He realized that it wasn't the best way to dispose of the lamp, but he didn't care. It felt good.

Much better than what else he knew he'd have to do.


	12. Chapter 12

Though exceedingly reluctant, Penny agreed to drive Jonathan to school the next morning. She was on edge the entire way, constantly double- and triple-checking before she made any turns. Jonathan hated to see her in such a state, but there was nothing he could do. As they finally pulled up to the school, Jonathan realized that she'd have to drive back by herself, and he wondered how she'd handle that.

"Mum, are you gonna be OK to drive back?" he asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

"I'll be fine, Jonathan, don't worry," she quietly replied. He believed her, but as he left he noticed she was tightly gripping the steering wheel.

Jonathan power walked into the school, completely bypassing the group of boys without so much as a glance up. Chris noticed, but didn't mind; it was freezing outside, and he wasn't entirely sure why he himself wasn't inside.

Jonathan walked to his locker with a purpose. Not that the purpose would be fulfilled at his locker, he just needed to prepare himself for later on. So, everything he did that morning was done with a purpose, until he finally strode into the lunchroom.

He even sat down with a purpose. None of the other boys were there, but this was usual. Jonathan was always there first, then most of the time Crack or Tom would show up. Occasionally, Steve would be there after Jonathan, but as of late he'd been arriving just after Spencer and just before Matt.

Today it was Tom who graced Jonathan with his presence first. He sat in the seat opposite Jonathan, where Devon had always sat. Though it had only been a day since his departure, Jonathan was guessing that Tom was trying to take over Devon's position as the group leader. It wasn't going to work, though, because he was the same social status as the rest of them, if not a tiny bit lower.

Tom started talking about the troubles the American economy was experiencing, and Jonathan would have loved to stuff a sock in his mouth so he'd shut up. Tom went on and on about how he was glad that he didn't live there anymore, but eventually England would suffer, too, and maybe he should just move to Japan or something. Of course, his parents wouldn't want to do that, did Jonathan even know what the Japanese did? Pearl Harbor. That was bad news.

"Lots of Americans were killed, Jonathan," Tom apprised. "Lots. And could you imagine if my grandfather had been there? I might not have been born, all thanks to some Japanese people I don't know. Thankfully, he was off... sleeping with hookers or something, but he did fight in the war, because it's not like he was completely unpatriotic or anything."

Tom's World War II lecture continued on long after the other boys sat down and told him that no one cared. Unfortunately, Tom didn't care, either, so his mouth kept spitting out useless information until his stomach informed him that it would like to be digesting some nutrition.

Jonathan wasn't even sure yet how he was going to do it. He'd thought about it almost every moment since the previous night, but it wasn't easy to decide on the exact method to use. He had to do it soon, though, that much he knew for sure.

"So, Spencer," Crack, who was sitting next to Jonathan, casually began. Spencer looked up quickly and waited for Crack to continue. "What're you collecting this week, hmm?"

"Shoes," Spencer replied with big eyes. "You'd be amazed at how many shoes you can find just lying around."

"Lying around where?" Steve snorted. Spencer snapped his head around.

"Everywhere," he simply said. Then he turned back to Crack. "Napkins, too. So, when you're done with that..."

Crack looked down at his tray to see what Spencer was pointing at. Go figure, he was pointing at Crack's napkin. He narrowed his eyes at Spencer and suspiciously said, "Yeah. We'll see." Spencer nodded, then sat back in his chair with a creepy satisfied grin on his face.

"So, anyway," Steve tried to say as nonchalantly as he could, then began a discussion about some television program. Matt joined in, giving all sorts of insight into what was supposedly going to happen next on the show. Crack didn't believe him, but Tom chimed in to say that he heard it was true, too. That didn't make Crack any less skeptical.

Jonathan tapped his fingers on the table. He was predictably tired of their conversation. It was time, anyway. On somewhat of a whim, he lifted the freshly opened, but as of yet untouched carton of milk that was just chilling on Crack's tray.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Crack shouted, but Jonathan didn't listen, didn't respond. He just stood up and began to walk across the room. And he walked with a purpose.

In the final stretch, about five feet from his destination, he started to feel it. The blood coursing through his veins pricked him in as many places as it could, leaving behind a nervous tingle shivering throughout his body. It was sort of frightening, but at the same time, sort of empowering.

Chris looked a little nervous, but he hadn't even seen Jonathan walk up. He was talking to some other boy, and he kept halfheartedly laughing every now and then at the boy's story. Jonathan didn't bother to stop to get Chris's attention, though he didn't have to; Chris turned his head when Jonathan was still in motion and then smiled at him without even thinking.

About half a minute passed before Chris realized what was going on. His and Jonathan's lips were locked together, which was wonderful until he remembered that he was in the middle of a cafeteria filled with other boys. But before he could react properly, something dropped on his head. It was solid, in a way, but liquid was trickling down his forehead and the back of his neck, too.

Jonathan walked back to the other table. He didn't dare turn to look at the scene behind him. The silence ringing throughout the room said enough by itself, and Jonathan could infer from observing the boys in front of him that everyone else was already looking at Chris. As it should be.

"It wasn't even any good," Jonathan said to Crack as he sat down. He threw the empty carton onto the tray in front of Crack, who was staring bug-eyed at Jonathan. "Way past expired."

Suddenly, there was a loud, ghastly shriek from the other side of the room, and then came the sound of footsteps running out the door. There was only one other short moment of silence before laughter burst out of the other boys.

Jonathan just sat there, feeling quite accomplished, ignoring the few stares he was still receiving. Eventually, everyone returned the favor and left Jonathan alone. He was quite happy with that.

For the rest of the school day, he warded off the occasional looks that the others gave him. He didn't really care about what they thought. In any case, they'd probably forget about him soon enough, like the way his fame merely two days prior had been extremely short-lived. They wouldn't forget Chris, though, and that was the point.

Jonathan had become so accustomed to walking home that he didn't even think to look for his mother's car after school. It was just as well, anyway, as he wouldn't have found it. Even with all of the cold air smacking him around, he still didn't think about it until he reached his house to see the car sitting uselessly in the driveway.

"Jonathan, I'm sorry," Penny immediately told him as he walked through the door. He had only just entered the house, and already she was all up in his space. "I was going to pick you up, but I- I couldn't."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Jonathan waved. "I'm used to walking home, and if you're not comfortable with driving, then I don't want to force you to do it."

"Jonathan, you shouldn't be so nice to people," Penny replied, rather drained. Jonathan laughed, mostly to himself.

"Mum, I'm not that nice, trust me." Jonathan walked past Penny, into the kitchen, and over to the fridge to get a drink. Penny followed him most of the way, but stopped at the kitchen table.

"Right, like you go around robbing houses and punching old ladies all the time..." Penny briefly paused, resting a hand on one of the nearby chairs. "Then again, you do like to go on all those walks, and you're never really clear about where you are or anything."

"Trust me, I would never punch an old lady. And I don't think I have the stealth to rob a house without getting caught." Jonathan turned around and somberly added, "And I don't think that I'll be going on very many walks anymore."

"Too cold?"

Jonathan stared at Penny, and decided to take the easy way out. "Yeah. One of the things I hate about winter, the fact that it's too damn cold to go outside."

"You used to love playing outside in the winter," Penny quietly, nostalgically said, with eyes set on the floor.

"I used to do a lot of things that I don't anymore, mum." Jonathan shrugged and continued, "Things change." Penny looked up and slowly nodded.

"Things do change, yes. Then one day you wake up, and you realize that you hardly know your son anymore. And you look out the window and see a smashed lamp on the ground."

"Oh," Jonathan laughed, "oops. I suppose I should clean that up, huh?"

"That would probably be a smart thing to do." Penny tried to stare at Jonathan as motherly as she could, and she seemed to do a fine job, if Jonathan's reaction was any indication. Jonathan stalked off into the other room, threw on his shoes and a jacket, and quickly ran to pick up the broken pieces of lamp. He wasn't sure that he'd gotten the entirety, but after about three minutes or so he was growing weary of the cold.

He tossed the broken lamp into the garbage can on his way back inside. He undressed his outdoor attire as swiftly as he had put it on, and walked back into the kitchen, where he assumed he'd find his mother. His assumption was correct; Penny was standing in front of an open cabinet, observing the shelves' stock.

"Finished already?" she asked without looking back.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got it all," Jonathan replied, and he walked closer to his mother. Penny continued to silently stare at the food for another minute.

"What do you want for dinner, kid?" she finally spoke.

"Kid?" Jonathan laughed. Penny turned and gave Jonathan a look that said, You heard me. "You don't already have anything planned?" Penny shook her head and closed the cabinet.

"To be honest, I haven't done anything since this morning. When I got home, I just... it wasn't gonna happen." Penny sighed, trying to shake off her sense of failure. She looked up at Jonathan, who seemed to be silently telling her not to worry. "Should I order pizza or something?"

"Pizza sounds delightful," Jonathan replied. He lifted his arm and pointed his thumb backwards at the other room. "I'm gonna go sit in the living room now."

"Have fun with that," Penny called as Jonathan left the room. He flopped down onto the couch and reached for the remote. He never usually watched all that much TV, but he figured he'd give it a go. Of course, after five minutes and three searches through every single channel, he found nothing that caught his attention, so he switched the set off again. As he did so, he heard the thud of a closing phone book and the beep of a cordless phone being hung up.

Jonathan lay motionless for quite a while, just plainly staring up at the ceiling. The tiles in the living room weren't much different from the tiles in his room. Still, it was an old habit of his, and a very hard one to break. Finally, he heard his mother creeping into the room.

"Nothing good on?" she asked as she sat down. Jonathan shook his head, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. Penny gave a small laugh and said, "Figures. Pizza should be here in-"

A loud knock interrupted Penny's sentence, and both she and Jonathan looked over at the doorway. Penny got up to answer the door, all the while mumbling about how she had no idea who it could be, it was much too soon for the pizza guy to be there. Jonathan stayed in his spot until he heard a familiar voice.

"Is Jonathan home?"

"Yes, he is. I'll go get him for you," Penny replied, and she turned around to fetch Jonathan. She didn't need to, though, as he was already right behind her. She moved out of the way so that he could speak with the boy at the door.

"What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked. Chris looked terrible, as expected, though Jonathan certainly hadn't expected to see him at all. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were flushed. It looked like some of his eyelashes were stuck together, wet and slightly frozen.

He shakily inhaled and responded, "Can I come in? It's kinda cold out here." Jonathan nodded and let Chris inside, closing the door behind him.

The two were silent for a minute, Penny lurking a few feet away from them, then Jonathan said, "So... how did you know find where I live?"

"I asked Kirsten." Chris looked around, back and forth between Penny and Jonathan, and nervously rubbed his arm. "Would it be all right if I stayed with you guys for while? My, um... my parents kicked me out."

"Your parents kicked you out?"

"They found out about... us," Chris lowered his voice and glanced at Penny. "And I told them about Kirsten. They gave me, like, two minutes to get stuff together, then told me to leave." Jonathan hadn't noticed until then that Chris was sporting a rather hefty-looking backpack.

Jonathan pitied Chris for a few moments, then turned to his mother. "Can Chris stay with us?" Penny looked contemplative, but she firmly nodded. Jonathan smiled a little and turned back to Chris. "Come on, I'll bring you up to the guest room, and you can throw your stuff in there."

Chris followed Jonathan up the stairs and down to a room at the end of the hall. Jonathan held the door open for Chris, and he slowly walked inside. The room was nice enough, not that he really cared. He just needed a place to sleep. It was bad enough that he'd walked all the way from his house, some forty-odd minutes in the cold, having to worry about being homeless just made things a thousand times worse. He was good now, though, and warm.

He was just staring with his hand clamped onto his backpack, and he hadn't realized until he felt Jonathan's hand on his shoulder that he'd started to cry. Again. It was a little embarrassing, but he couldn't stop it. It wasn't like he hadn't already been embarrassed earlier, anyway.

"How do I even still have water in my body?" Chris tried to laugh, wiping his cheeks dry. "This is all I've been doing all day." Jonathan sighed, suppressing his urge to hold Chris, and suggested that they return downstairs.

They settled in the living room, both Chris and Jonathan sitting on the couch, and Penny watched them from the doorway. Neither of them said anything, the just sat and stared at each other and at various objects around the room. Eventually, she sat down, and started talking to Chris. She asked him basic, simple things about himself, and the entire time Jonathan was hiding his face. She didn't express it, but Jonathan just felt like Penny was a little weirded out.

She had to leave once the pizza arrived, and she ushered it into the kitchen to prepare a few plates. The silence reentered the room, save for a few sniffs from Chris.

It was Jonathan who finally spoke, "Sorry about earlier. I realize that it was a little cruel to do it that way, but I felt like it was something I had to do."

Chris turned to Jonathan, and his voice whined as he said, "Why? Yesterday, we were- Everything was fine." Jonathan looked back at him as if to say that there was nothing else he could have done. "It's my fault, isn't it?" Jonathan took a deep breath.

"Kinda, but that's also part of the problem," he answered.

"What is?"

"You're so arrogant, Chris. Even when you're trying to be mindful of other people, it's always about you." Jonathan shrugged and quietly said, "I think that's something that you need to change."

After a moment's silence, Chris wheezed, "Will you help me change?" The look on Chris's face was so pitiful and disheartening.

"Yeah, I will. And we can be friends if you want, but nothing more." Chris nodded, but he frowned a bit as he did so.

"So, you don't even love me anymore." It looked painful for Jonathan to do so, but he shook his head firmly. Chris deeply inhaled and inquired, "Did you ever actually love me?"

Jonathan paused for a moment to think, then decisively said, "No." He didn't say it because it was true, because it wasn't true, not at all; he said it because it was what Chris needed to hear. Although, the more he thought about it, and the more time he spent talking to Chris, the more he began to believe that maybe they hadn't both felt the same kind of love.

Chris was staring in the same spacey way that had become slightly normal for him over the past few days. He wasn't as unconscious, though, and he quietly said, "Jonathan, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." Chris took a deep breath and continued to stare across the room.

"When we were together, was it weird for you... you know, that we're both boys?"

Jonathan twisted his mouth and nodded a little. "At first, yeah, but I got used to it after a while." Chris turned his head down to look at his hands resting in his lap.

"I thought about it all the time. Whenever we were together, I'd think, He's a boy, he's a boy. But it was never weird for me. Then whenever I was with a girl..." Chris paused, watched as Jonathan winced a little, "I'd be like, She's a girl, she's a girl... and that was weird for me." Chris looked at Jonathan with frightened eyes, and Jonathan stared at him for a few moments before he understood. He actually couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it earlier, as it explained quite a lot.

"Oh." Chris raised his eyebrows and his near-tears look returned. He buried his face in his frustrated hands, and shoved his fingers into his curly mop of hair.

"Chris?" Penny had been in the other room still, but she seemed to have abandoned her task of getting the pizza, and walked over to the boys, sitting down in the armchair nearest Chris. As she sat, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing... Chris, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

Chris raised his eyes to Penny, wanting desperately to believe her. He let his hands fall into his lap as he asked, "There isn't?"

"No," she said. "Well, people aren't going to like it, that's for sure, but if that's who you are, then you shouldn't be afraid. You shouldn't be afraid of being you."

"But my parents... they already kicked me out just because they found out about Jon... if they take me back-" Chris's eyes bulged and he freaked, "They will take me back, right?"

"I think they will," Penny calmly replied. Chris settled a little, but he sighed heavily.

"I'm expected to marry, to have children, raise the perfect family..." His voice was shaking, and it only got worse as he cried, "How am I going to tell them that I don't like girls?"

Penny looked thoughtfully for a moment, then replied, "It won't be easy, I'm sure. It probably won't be easy for your parents to hear, either. But don't be afraid to tell them."

"What if they hate it... or hate me... What if they kick me out again?"

"You're always welcome here."

"All right, so, what, then? I just go up to them and say, 'Hey, mum. Dad. Guess what? I'm...'" Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly opened them again. He opened his mouth, but as many times as he tried, nothing came out. He looked over to Jonathan, trying to find some confidence. He saw the green eyes stare at him and somehow the words just flowed from his vocal chords."I'm gay... Oh, wow."

"It feels better to say it, doesn't it?" Penny asked.

"It's scary. Like, it's real now. This thing that I've..." Chris airily laughed, "You know, it was so frustrating, going on all those dates for my parents, and every single time thinking that I'm never going to find the right girl. Now I know why, and it's not any less frustrating!"

"Chris?" Chris looked up to Jonathan, and Jonathan continued, "It's OK." Chris felt a bit of his heavy load lighten as he gained Jonathan's acceptance, and he smiled until he remembered that Jonathan didn't return his feelings anymore. Then a sad sort of silence fell between the two boys, and Penny decided to chime in after a bit.

"Jonathan, you could have told me about you two, you know," she said. "I would have understood, at least. I can't believe you hid something like this from me."

Jonathan shrugged, "Well, I hid it from everyone... except for Chris, of course." Chris was already looking at Jonathan when Jonathan turned his head. "I never hid anything from you, because you were the only thing I ever had to hide." Chris's face fell, plagued with sadness.

"I hid everything from you... Jonathan." Chris sweetly gazed at Jonathan with teary and regretful blue eyes and said, "I'm sorry."


End file.
